


I'm not gay! Seriously!

by Celina12388



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Flirting, Cats, Chemistry, Comfort Food, Craig Tucker Being An Asshole, Domestic Fluff, Double Dating, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Eventual Smut, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, F/M, Feelings, Fights, First Kiss, Fist Fights, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, Graphic Description, High School, Hospitals, Just Add Kittens, Little Brothers, M/M, Manipulation, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Poor Butters, Protective Craig, Protective Tweek, Protectiveness, Racism, Sick Character, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Tea, Tea Parties, Telepathy, Temporary Amnesia, Therapy, Video & Computer Games, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, casual Keneric is casual, tall!Kyle, they're so gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 84,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celina12388/pseuds/Celina12388
Summary: Eric Cartman is only one obstacle away from leading a perfectly content life.It's always been there.That obstacle's name is Kyle Broflovski.Naturally, Cartman does everything in his power to prevent the inevitable.





	1. The only thing I'm guilty of is loving you

I woke up –

Sweating. Panting. Gasping.

Again.

Droplets ran down my back, my striped pyjamas sticking to my flushed skin. Hesitantly, I wiped my brow with my sleeve, feeling the material dampen with perspiration. I sat up and began unbuttoning my shirt, the awkward squelching disgusting me. Without a moment of hesitation, I scrunched it up and threw it in my laundry basket, followed by my pants. After, I headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower, waiting for it to steam up the whole bathroom before stepping inside. Mom was never pleased about my expensive habits of letting the water run for at least a solid ten minutes before actually starting to getting in there, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Immediately, I felt some form of relief with the acid-like bullets streaming down my exposed body, and in turn, I shivered in delight. I stood under that shower head for at least half an hour, and with each and every second, I tried calming myself down.

It was just a dream. Just a stupid nightmare. It didn’t mean anything. Just a figment of my imagination overreacting, as usual. I needed to do what my therapist told me; not get angry without analyzing the situation first. And the situation was... There wasn’t a situation. It was just a dream. Nothing more than that.

With a shaky exhale, I wiped away some droplets from my face. The dream shouldn’t have happened! I guess hypnosis didn’t work. That motherfucker salesman, charging fifteen dollars for a CD that didn’t fucking hypnotise for shit! I was supposed to forget! But I didn’t. Furiously, I lathered myself in vanilla crème body wash and scrubbed it off. And no, my vanilla crème body wash was not a pussy soap. In fact, it made me a beefcake for not having fragile masculinity and acknowledging that guy soaps smell like shit. Like seriously, no self-respecting guy would pay for that bullshit if they tried using women’s scents. As long as I didn’t have major B.O like some no-life nerd, I was fine! Using women’s stuff did not make me any less of a man. Besides, who else apart from me cared what I smelled like?

I stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed, wrapping a towel around myself and brushing my teeth. Dental hygiene was always important to me, as it should be to anyone. Once I finished jamming out  to the beat of some music with toothpaste foam dripping out my mouth and a microphone toothbrush in my hand, I re-entered my bedroom and got dressed. Well, more like I stood in the doorway of my walk in closet until I heard mom getting up, after which I grabbed a faded pair of jeans and some t-shirt before heading downstairs. I didn’t remember when exactly dressing started to take me so long— still, they do say that couples eventually become like one-another, and Heidi sure as shit took a decade to get herself ready so I guess I must’ve took after her. Just because we were together didn’t mean she didn’t trigger my pet peeves. Often.

 I resolved to change my clothing habits sometime soon.

The smell of frying from the kitchen piqued my interest, and I rapidly followed suit, forgetting all about my nightmare until I sat at the round, wooden table, swinging my feet back and forth impatiently, waiting for Mom to finish making breakfast. I drummed my fingers against the table, starting to really get pissed off -I’m not known for having an even temper- when she finally arrived carrying a glorious stack of pancakes, each smothered with a different filling: the classic- butter with a drizzling of maple syrup, some cinnamon swirl pancakes with caramelised apple slices, chocolate and peanut butter (creamy, of course. There is nothing more goddamn gay in this life than choking on _nuts_ ) and to add some savoury into the mix, some pancakes with crispy bacon cooked inside. My mouth was drooling at the prospect of such great food. If there’s one thing that I thank her for, it’s her cooking. Because she is a great cook. And also a total pushover.

But today, she decided to push my buttons instead.

“Poopsikins, did you have a bad dream?”

God damn it. No matter how many times I would probe and plead her, ‘Poopsikins’ remained in her lexicon as a permanent nickname for me, no matter how embarrassing.

“No.” I replied quickly, shovelling some pancake on the fork and into my mouth, chewing pointedly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m fucking sure.” I spat, both literally, pieces of bacon spewing from my mouth, and figuratively, glaring at her.

“Poopsie, you know I love you more than anything else, right? Because if you’re having problems, we’ll go to see Dr. Marlen again. You like Dr. Marlen, don’t you, hun?”

She couldn’t have sounded more patronising if she tried. And no, I did not fucking like Dr. Marlen. But from what it seemed like, last couple sessions, Mom and Dr. Marlen got to like eachother a little too well. And I sure as shit wasn’t going to go and see the nosy old bastard after he just had a ‘heart to heart’ with Mom. Fucking gross. More importantly, I wasn’t going to go about spilling my secrets to just about anyone with a piece of paper that claimed they were a medical professional. Fuck that shit.

“I’m fine! Just leave me alone.” I growled, wiping some crumbs off my lips.

“But Poopsikins, I just want to help.” She placed her hand on my shoulder, and looked at me imploringly.

Her eyes were visibly begging for my forgiveness.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Probably not ever.

I shook her off harshly, seeing her sink down in her spot and her eyes filling up with tears. For the briefest of moments, _I_ felt bad. But I was the victim here, not her. I had to remember that.

Silently, I stepped out of the room, grabbing my backpack and heading out the door, making sure to slam it shut behind me. I had to make sure she knew just how mad I was at her.

Great start to the day.

The frost outside nipped at my neck, but then again, that was usual Colorado weather for me. Only a couple streets down was Heidi’s house, and I decided that if one of my ladies was crying, I could at least do a romantic gesture for the other. I didn’t necessarily feel bad for making Mom cry, she was bound to get over herself in fifteen minutes or so, so I tried not to think about it. Along the way, I stopped at various patches of meadow and collected flowers, taking only the prettiest for my girl. Once I was sure I had a substantial amount, I took off my gloves and began making a chain. My hands were bitter red and I was sure my fingertips were icicles, but by the time I reached Heidi’s house, I had a beautiful wreath of assorted wild flowers. Knocking on the door was a pain in the ass— well, more of a pain in the knuckles, but you get the idea. After a couple of minutes, Heidi appeared at the door and I flashed her a charming grin, taking the wreath from behind my back and placing it atop her head with a kiss on the forehead.

“Eric, did you cheat on me?” She giggled sweetly as she placed her arm in the crook of mine.

“Heidi. I would never, ever, under any circumstance cheat on you in any way, shape or form. You know that.”

“Of course I know! I was just joking. Girls are smart and funny, after all, you keep on telling me that. It’s usually just that guys only do something for their girlfriends when they’re guilty of something.”

Involuntarily, Mom flashed through my mind.

I thought of something else...

anything else...

“The only thing I’m guilty of is loving you...” I sang softly, pulling her closer to me.

Nice save.

I watched her eyes flicker with joy and her cheeks flush a bright red. She batted her hand at me in mock anger before smiling earnestly.

“The only thing I’m frightened of is losing you...” Heidi murmured timidly, looking right at me.

Her large, hazel eyes glittered as pale flakes of snow caught in her mascara-rimmed eyelashes, as she looked up at me, with a happy expression. She looked pretty. I twisted my lips upwards to match her smile, before offering my hand to her, which she gladly accepted.

Until she felt it.

“Your hand’s so cold!” she yelped, pulling away immediately.

“Well flowers aren’t going to wreath themselves, sweetheart. I had to make sacrifices for you.” I said, grasping her hand and pulling her along. “Come on. We’ve got to get going if we have any hope of making it to skewl on time.”

She held onto my hand with one hand and held the flowers on her head with the other as we ran to school like lunatics, laughing and jostling eachother, neither of us really caring if we were late to homeroom.

Unfortunately, we had separate teachers, but with a parting goodbye kiss I left her at the door to her homeroom before retreating to my own. By some miracle, I managed to reach it in just the nick of time, earning myself only a stern glare from the teacher.

I sat at the back, absentmindedly playing on my phone whilst the teacher droned on about some school ethos or something. I wasn’t really paying attention, so the punch on the shoulder from Kenny came as a shock.

“What the fuck, Kinny?” I groaned, rubbing my arm. I didn’t even notice when he entered the classroom, let alone when he actually came and sat next to me.

“Hello to you too.” He snorted.

I put down my phone, after of course, I bragged about actually being able to afford one that isn’t a Nokia brick. Kenny just sighed and rolled his eyes in a manner of ‘Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m poor. Big whoop.’ before continuing.

“Do you wanna hang out after school?” He asked.

“To do what?” I queried, instantly suspicious.

 Somehow I must’ve sensed that this wasn’t going to be the regular chilling and playing videogames.

“It’s a surprise.” He replied nonchalantly.

“Kinny, you know I fucking hate surprises.” I retorted.

“Is it because the last time your mother had a surprise for you, you had to take her to the abortion clinic?” Kenny cackled as I kicked him on the shin in revenge under the desk.

“Very funny, asshole. You know full well I’m not going anywhere without knowing what I’m getting into.” I said.

“Fine, I’ll tell. I heard that underneath City Wok, Mr Lu Kim is doing kickboxing sessions.”

“Good for him. And why do I have to be involved in that shit?”

“Come on chubby, it’ll do you some good.” He pinched my belly and arms, prodding at my prominent areas

“No fucking way, dude. I’m already buff. What you’re poking is pure muscle.” I flexed my biceps to show him. “And if you’re so keen, get Stan or someone to come with you.”

“You know Stan’s got football practice every night. And when he’s not doing that, he’s doing Wendy. He’s busy; on the other hand, you’re not.”

“Well maybe I want to spend time with my girlfriend too.” I answered.

“ _Well maybe_ she’s not going to want to do you when you’re fat.” Kenny mimicked my previous words in the most annoying way possible.

“I’m not fat! I’ve just got big bones.” I harrumphed.

“Please?” Kenny asked, clasping his hands together, and looking up at me. I was fucking positive he was batting his eyelashes under his parka.

I thought about it, scratching my chin and looking around before I turned to him:

“No fucking way.”

“Aw, come on. You’ll be able to take Heidi out for midnight strolls, and if any of those fucks from Denver try to come up on you, you can bash their heads in.”

A small smile quirked on my lips when I thought about it. Kenny must’ve noticed, because he carried on like some kind of snake charmer, with every word moving closer to my ear until the words became whispers;

“Pin them up against the wall and watch them quiver in fear as you tell them who’s boss. Everyone would be so stoked on you. Heidi would fall into your strong, buff arms as she called you her hero. And everyone in Colorado would know that they have to respect your authority.”

Damn, he’d gotten a little too good with the manipulation tactics- thanks to me.

“Respect mah authoritah.” I repeated disbelievingly.

Kenny pulled back and looked at me again, eyes hopeful. Fucking Kenny. I guessed it wouldn’t hurt to try. But only once. After all, how difficult could it be for someone as buff as me?

“I’ll think about it.”

Please note that I only agreed to shut him up.

 “Woohoo!”  he cheered ecstatically. “It’s ten bucks per lesson. I’ll meet you at your place at seven.”

“Oh fuck my life. Ten fucking dollars? It’s a bloody rip-off. Why do I have to go with you again?”

“Because we’re best friends forever. Your words, not mine.” Kenny chuckled. “And don’t tell anyone about it, I know your huge gob will go tattling everywhere otherwise. Keep it between us.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.”

Just at that moment, the bell went for class.

Lessons passed in a monochromatic blur. There wasn’t anything interesting to say about mathematics, for most of the lesson I sat staring at the wall, trying to figure out what the fuck our teacher was yapping on about. Same in physics. Numbers were just so fucking boring! When would I ever have to rationalise a fucking surd or find out the velocity of something or another?

History was better. I liked history. It was easier to remember all the dates and names of the people when I knew what fucked up shit they’d done and could analyse their motives for it. Although the industrial revolution wasn’t my favourite topic, I managed to get by, consoling myself by looking forward to two topics ahead when we would discuss Nazi Germany. That would sure be fun.

When the lesson ended, I went to music. Instead of foreign languages, the school signed me up for instrumental studies, as I already knew French, Spanish and German. And because when I was there, I made all the students ‘feel unsafe and uncomfortable’. Bunch of pussies.

Ironically, I had music with the most easy to scare person in the world: Tweek. The languages department gave up on him and his crazy shenanigans the minute he walked in the door, so he was sent to do music instead. Apparently that was supposed to calm him down more. Apparently.

“For fuck’s sake Tweek, stop messing up the chords and don’t miss ‘G’ this time!” I barked.

“Too much pressure!” He screeched, yanking out an impressively large lump of hair.

I decided to have some fun. I turned to Tweek, stepping closer until our noses were an inch apart from one another. I made sure I made him uncomfortable enough to not be able to pull his gaze away from me. Maybe after I did this he’d stop fucking me up so often.

“Do you know what’s actual pressure? When you’ll fail music, and won’t get a job anywhere ‘cause your parents won’t hire without qualification. You’ll get kicked out of the house and live on the streets with the hobos and rats, most likely get infected by a plague of some sort and be disfigured forever. Your faggy boyfriend Craig will break up with you because who would want to love a homeless, jobless, worthless, ugly spaz like you?” I whispered menacingly.

“Oh Jesus man!” He yelped, trembling.

I pat him on the back gently, and he visibly shook at the notion.

“Do you want to know how to avoid that future?” I asked delicately.

“Ye- Yeah..” He squeaked.

“THEN STOP FUCKING UP!”

Aaanndd he broke. God damn it. Fucking worthless piece of shit spaz had a mental breakdown and started sobbing, quivering and hyperventilating. How the fuck did Craig deal with this guy? Whatever.

“We’ll go again from bar fourteen.” I said, turning to the lyrics and clearing my throat.

But of course, the spaz was still freaking out and wouldn’t play. So I did what any logical person in that situation would do; I pushed him off the stool onto the floor and started playing the piano myself.

I didn’t miss the ‘G’ chords once. A true testament to the saying ‘if you want something done well, do it yourself’.

Nothing notable happened for the rest of the school day. I sat with Heidi at lunch and we conversed. She told me all about how the other girls found her flowers pretty and how boring her geography class was. Just the usual stuff. After school, I told her I had stuff to do and bid her farewell with a peck on the cheek.

Kenny arrived exactly at seven and we made our way to City Wok. I was still curious as to why Kenny wanted me, of all people, to go with him, but I found my answer when we knocked on the door to the Chinese restaurant.

“You here for kickboxing?” Lu Kim looked us both up and down sceptically.

Kenny nodded.

“Five dollar each.” Lu Kim stated with his slurred accent, holding out his hand.

I glared at Kenny as I gave Lu Kim the tenner and went in.

“So am I expected to pay for your broke ass every time you want to come here?” I snapped at Kenny.

Kenny just shrugged it off and walked down the stairs into the basement.

“Fuck you, poor boy.”

“Love you too, fatass.” He replied.

Let me tell you, the training made me hate everything and everyone in the world. I ended up drowning in my own sweat after only fifteen minutes of warm-up. It was hard. Really, really hard. I could barely do three push ups when Kim demanded fifty. Fucking Asian. I told him to do the fucking push ups himself if he was so good at ordering other people to do them. He retaliated by adding another twenty for the both of us.

Normally, I would’ve stormed out, but Kenny kept glancing up at me almost as if he didn’t want me to. So I stayed. Besides, I didn’t have anything better to do. Going home to Mom was going to be awkward, so I wanted to postpone it for as long as possible.

The actual content of the lesson wasn’t too horrendous. Apart from the fact that I nearly broke my balls when he told us to get into splits position. For the most part he went easy on us, instructing on how to always keep our guard up and return to it after every punch. He claimed that he wanted us to get the basics right first before continuing onto the more difficult stuff.

“What did you think?” Kenny asked after we went outside. He too, was slightly pink from exertion.

“Never again.” I snorted, wiping the sweat off my brow.

“Oh come on. It wasn’t too bad.”

“Yes the fuck it was!” I replied indignantly.  

“Which part?”

“Let me think, Kinny. I’m deliberating between the fact that I spent money on _you_ , the fact that I wasted my time when I could’ve been much more productive and the fact that I was actually doing exercise.”

“We’re going again tomorrow.” Kenny said nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just hear my explanation as to why the previous two hours sucked ass.

“The hell we are! I’m staying over Heidi’s.”

“We’re going again tomorrow! I” He called out again as he passed the crosswalk, heading back to the direction of his house; “Bring ten dollars!”

After a couple of minutes, I reached the familiar outline of my home, and entered it. It was quiet. I presumed Mom was out somewhere that I’d rather not think about. I chucked my t-shirt and pants wherever, making a beeline straight for the shower. I don’t think I’d _ever_ be able to go to bed sweaty and gross.

With a towel wrapped around my head in a turban and some fresh pyjamas on, I settled in bed. Out of reflex, I carried on the tradition of sending Heidi a goodnight text with a heart emoji, and plugged my phone into charge. I threw the towel to the other side of the room, hitting the light switch to turn the overhead lights off. Now, just the dim glow of the lamp accompanied me

From my bedside table, I took out one of my few sacred possessions; my journal. Yes, journals are fucking manly and totally cool, unlike what some people seem to think. I wrote some stuff and scribbled some more, until I was pleased that I had done enough.

With a yawn, I turned over to the back page and updated my private tally chart to achieve my goal. It was the recommendation of Dr. Marlen that Mom begged me to commit to, so I did.

**SUCCESSFUL DAYS:**

**I**

Perhaps the hypnotisation thing did work.

Out of sight, out of mind.


	2. I love you just the way you are

Well, I hate to say this, but Kenny was right. We did go to kickboxing lessons the next day. And the day after that. And again. And again and again and again. Until it actually became a habit. It takes twenty one days to form one, and we went nearly every day for about a month. But not like a cheat month like February, that only has twenty eight days. Like an actual, full month. Yes, I know, I know, the infamous Eric Cartman spending time on moving his body instead of choosing a more intellectual route, what a shock! But it helped. I found that I could sleep easier, and had less nightmares. To be honest, it was the best motivation for me. Any time I wanted to have a cheat day and Kenny wouldn’t be able to physically haul my ass out there I was punished with those visions in the dead of night. Needless to say, the next day at practice, I worked extra hard.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t turn into a hippie jock like Stan or anything crazy like that. I still hated every single lesson with a burning passion, and after every one I promised Kenny to never return there again. Only to return to the same place at seven thirty pm exactly. One time, Kenny and I found out in a particularly harsh way that Lu Kim doesn’t tolerate lateness- we had rope-burn on our legs for days. Needless to say, we weren’t late ever again.

Despite the fact that I didn’t take care to eat healthier than before, I found my body changing. My t-shirts quickly became looser and my legs could slip into jeans more easily without doing the ritual hopping around on one leg to try and shove the other in. If I was buff before, I was definitely more so now. The muscles in my stomach actually stopped drooping down over my gut as much. I showed Kenny the change and informed him of my abs forming but he just didn’t seem to see it. I guessed that he was as blind as he was poor, because I was definitely getting into shape. At least he stopped referring to my sweet pecs as ‘moobs’ as a gratuitous peace offering after I refused to pay for his ticket.

 I’m not going to lie, and in a strictly no-homo way Kenny did get hotter too. He went from being a stick with vague muscle definition to a stick with some traces of actual flesh. He wasn’t as broad and muscular as me, but he was getting there, slowly. I guess Kim must’ve noticed that too, because he gave him a thumbs up and a ‘I like you, Dennis. You work real hard.’ when Kenny took off his shirt to wipe his face with it. Broke boy still couldn’t afford to get himself a towel. I guessed that the whole ‘Dennis’ thing must’ve been an inside joke between them that I didn’t get, because Kenny sure wasn’t fazed by that name.

However, that didn’t mean Kim became any less lenient towards us. When he asked for forty squats, I gave him a solid thirty (can’t be too good, you know) and he told me he expected at least forty five. Typical fucking Asian. Sweat dripped down to my balls every time, but I gave him that satisfaction of fifteen extra squats. I was always a selfless person like that. We both knew that those extra lunges were purely for his benefit of bossing us around, but nevertheless, I conceded.

One time, he put me against Kenny in a sparring match. The results of that were, well, interesting, to say the least. Kenny was always more agile on his feet, and the fucker kept roundhouse kicking my ribs, but I used his focus on my stomach to punch him in the face repeatedly due to the fact that he kept lowering his guard. He then switched tactics and tried an uppercut at the exact same time as I kneed him in the stomach, sending both of us sprawling in different directions with varying degrees of pain. I handled it like a man and wiped away the instinctive tears at such a harsh blow, and although Kenny made fun of me for it later, I saw that hypocrite do the exact same thing when he keeled over, grasping his stomach and covering his face.

All the talk in the changing rooms for a couple days after was either about the mysterious appearance of bruises on my ribs or the ones on Kenny’s abdomen, but neither of us admitted to anything. We both agreed that having the element of surprise in such a situation would be an advantage if we ever were to get in a fight. Which was kind of a bitch when I needed to explain myself to Heidi.

“Honey, honey, I know, I know. You’re worried about me and I get that, but it’s just a guy thing. They’ll heal.” I soothed her, cuddling up to her on her bed.

She leaned back and grasped my cheeks in her hands. “Eric, I want to know what’s up with you. You know I love you whichever way you look and accept you for whatever you do but you’re starting to worry me. You don’t respond to my messages for at least two hours every day. You’ve lost so much weight already and now.. this?”

“Honey, please. You have to trust me on this one. I’m absolutely fine. If I weren’t, I’d tell you. You know I would. I would never lie to you.” I stroked her hair for a moment before putting my forehead against hers. “You do trust me, right?”

Without wavering, she replied, “Yes. I do. But whatever you’re doing, please be careful, for me. Alright?”

“I will.”

All the tension from her face seemed to melt away and she curled her lips into a coy smile.

“Can I have a kiss to make it better?” I asked, pursing my lips while resting my hand against her hip.

The smile turned into a mischievous grin.

“Sure thing, babe.” She replied innocently, before pushing me on my back and pulling up my shirt to expose the bruised area. Which, may I add, she completely fucking ignored in favour of focusing on caressing her fingers through my chest hairs.

“Heidi,” I squirmed like a freshly reeled in fish, “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you better.” She replied, placing a chaste smooch just above my belly button.

Ah. So she was in _that_ mood. Well I had to find a way to get her out of it, and fast.

“Thank you, honey. I’m feeling all better now.” I attempted to sit back up, but to no avail. She held her hands on my shoulders and put them back in their place. If I really wanted to, I could’ve kicked her off me and onto the floor. Call it a form of Don Juan intuition, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t really appreciate that very much.

“Come on, Eric. All the girls have been talking about you losing weight. Annie Knitts even said you don’t look half-bad now, with your broad shoulders being more prominent than ever. But I told her your shoulders are for me.” She gripped them tighter and rubbed her thumb back and forth across. “They’re mine.” She added with a sultry look, dipping down to kiss my shoulder blade.

I pulled her back. “Are you doing this only because you feel jealous, honey? I wouldn’t even cast a second glance at Annie. You’re the only girl for me, and you don’t need to try to seduce me just to prove a point to your girlfriends.”

She obviously wasn’t giving up that easily.

“No, silly. I’m trying to seduce you because I think you look hot.” She giggled, provocatively trailing her nail up and down my exposed chest. My body jerked away from her touch instinctively, but she must’ve gotten the wrong idea as she pressed down harder.

“Heidi, please. I’ve got to get going home soon. We can do this another time.” I suggested, pushing my torso up and leaning on my forearms instead of laying flat on my back, causing the shirt to slide back down my full-figured abdomen.

She paused for a moment, contemplating, before a wicked grin appeared on her features and she leaned forward to whisper into my ear.

“Or you could stay the night here.”

Nope. Nope. Nope.

“My dear Heidi. The idea sounds wonderful, but I haven’t even got pyjamas with me.”

 “You wouldn’t need any pyjamas tonight.” She bit her lip seductively.

I made up another generic excuse, but she obviously wasn’t buying it.

“Oh Eric! My parents aren’t home and you could easily text your Mom some quick substitute as to who’s house you’re staying at. You know I know that she wouldn’t mind even if you told her the truth. I’ve even brought some condoms and now I’m practically begging you to touch me. I’ll do just about anything you want. Any other boy would’ve jumped to the occasion by now.” She pouted, wiggling her hips.

Fuck. Well there went all my excuses. As much as I hated to do this, I had to pull the Guilt Trip card.

“Well Heidi, I guess I’m not like other boys then. I’m not in the mood today but you just won’t respect my boundaries.” I said firmly. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”

Heidi’s face scrunched up.

“But it’s not fair! You always get to kiss me or pull me into a hug or pinch my cheek and I’m fine with it, whether we’re in public or not! But when I try to initiate any type of contact at all you just brush me off! You can just give me affection whenever you feel like it, but I’ve decided that it’s my turn to reciprocate. I want to give you some affection now. ”

I shook my head adamantly.

She looked dangerously close to tears.

“Please?”

Well shit. There was no way in hell that I was going to give her control of my body like that. It was unpleasant thinking about doing the deed with her. Don’t try and twist it the wrong way, I was straight as a fucking lamp-post and she was pretty. It was just that I didn’t think our relationship was quite developed enough to breach that level of purity. And I was concerned for her. What if after losing her virginity to me she decided she regretted it? Six years of relationship gone to hell just because she was horny. I couldn’t risk it. For her sake, of course. If I weren’t such a caring boyfriend she would’ve been on all fours by now, ass up in the air while I rammed her from behind.

“How about a compromise?” I proposed, wiping her eyelid carefully with my thumb and sitting up so that she was in my lap. “Would you go for that?”

She nodded her head timidly.

“Okay. We’ll go slowly and see where it goes from there. I’m not promising anything.”

I twisted us over so that she lay underneath me and nuzzled into her neck. Heidi smelled like lavender perfume. It smelled homely, and if the scent of baking was added to it, she would’ve smelled exactly like Mom. Not that that was a sudden weird thought whilst with my girlfriend. She looked so weak beneath me. Kind of like letting herself become a pushover to suit me. I took a deep inhale and kissed Heidi’s neck, slowly, licking over with caution. She whimpered and sighed, which made me immediately pull back. I fucking knew she wouldn’t like it.

“Are you okay?” I asked guardedly.

“Yes Eric, I’m fine.” She replied, confused.

“Are you sure, though? We can stop if you want.” I suggested.

Heidi cast me a dejected glare and her eyes filled up with tears as she sat up. For fuck’s sake. One minute she’s all over me and the next she’s going to be filing fucking rape charges!

“You don’t want me, do you?” She accused.

“Of course I do. Honey, you know I think you’re the prettiest girl under the sun. There’s no other girl that’s as smart and as funny as you are.” I replied, trying to keep myself, and her, composed.

“Then why are you hesitating that much? It’s almost as if you don’t like me at all.” Heidi whined, a tear running down her precious face.

“Heidi, no!” I kissed that falling tear. It tasted salty and bitterly unpleasant to my brain. My nether regions, however, reacted a lot differently to that stimuli; I had to fight to keep my mind over matter. “You have no reason to cry.”

“Yes I do! You’re a horrible boyfriend! All I want to do is be close to you and you won’t even let me do that!”

Fuck. Think brain, think!

“Would it make you feel better if I ate you out?”

Great, move, master charmer. Tactful as shit.

“No! I mean yes! It would be really nice, but this is the exact opposite of what I want right now! My whole point is that I want to make you feel good!” Heidi complained, sniffling.

“But honey,” I placed my hand on her arm, “I’m happiest when you feel good. So that’s what I do.”

By that point, I was ready to tell her pigs could fly so that she would shut the fuck up and let me be. Women are so fucking complicated. One wrong move and she would start throwing pillows at me.

“Stop making so many excuses, Eric! I want to feel you!” Heidi practically demanded, with each word in a higher pitch than the last, mascara streaking down her cheeks and drool escaping her lower lip.

“Oh my God, Heidi. What if I’m uncomfortable with you touching me?”

Heidi halted. Her eyes went wide and the waterworks immediately stopped. With a creepily calm expression (compared to the shitshow she was pulling just a second ago) she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. It was like she had a fucking epiphany or something out of nowhere. She let out a deep breath mingled with laughter and shook her head in disbelief. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. With her, it could be either.

“Is this what it’s all about?” She asked, composed again.

“Huh?”

I had no fucking clue what she was talking about. That’s a woman for you.

“Eric, you don’t need to worry about imperfections. We all have them. I love you just the way you are.”

“Huh?”

Who the fuck said anything about imperfections? I was pretty damn sure  a couple minutes ago I was the number one hot guy, according to her.

“You don’t need to worry about it.” She smiled, as if she was trying to calm _me_ down.

“Huh?” I stared at her like an idiot for nearly a whole minute.

Hold up.

Wait, wait, wait. Did she think what I thought she was thinking?

“I really don’t care about size.” Heidi whispered, putting her hand on my knee.

Oh no she did not just-

She didn’t-

Did she just assume-

That bitch!

I pulled away as if she were red hot. For a moment there I was speechless. Like, completely fucking dumbfounded. How fucking dare she! She didn’t even see my very reasonably sized dick and she was already making such untrue hypothesises about it! The bitch had to be kidding me. No. I just couldn’t deal with her anymore tonight. First it was her complaining about my bruises, then complaining about being horny, then complaining about not being able to please me and now she was complaining about my dick. I mean, like, come on! Where did she draw the line? This was beyond ridiculous. She was seriously turning me into some kind of pussy-whipped little bitch. Well not anymore, cunt!

“I don’t have a small dick!” I retorted, fuming with anger.

“Eric! Calm down, please!” Heidi held up her hands in a placating manner.

“No I won’t fucking calm down! You thought that _I_ have a small dick?” My hands twitched with fury.

“No-” She started.

I didn’t let her finish.

I didn’t want to hear any more of Heidi’s excuses. Her lies. _No Eric, I didn’t think that at all. No Eric, I just made a mistake in judgement, I just thought that because of the situation. No Eric, but how am I supposed to know when I haven’t even seen it?_

I stood up and threw all of my shit from her desk into my backpack; my homework assignments, biro pens etc. All the stuff we were working on earlier that we decided to postpone to snuggle.

“Eric? Eric please calm down! I didn’t know you’d take it personally!” Heidi called out frantically.

It was like she poured a bucket of salt over a healing wound and covered that with a gallon of lemon juice. Did she think I took it personally? I DID NOT take it fucking personally, okay? But if she said one more word to me I would fucking punch her. Everyone had a limit. It just so happened that she crossed mine.

I gathered the rest of my items and started putting my coat, gloves and hat on.

“Come on, Eric! I’m sorry!” Heidi desperately faffed around trying to stop me. She pulled me around by the arm so that I was facing her.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” I seethed, shaking her grasp off, going out of her bedroom and heading out of her house.

“Eric!” She called out into the dark street behind me, trying to shove her shoes on and follow me.

I stepped back onto her front porch, and she rushed out, trying to hug me. I held her by the wrists and pushed her back, lightly, but hard enough so that she got the point. Before she could get a single word in I spoke.

“Goodnight Heidi.” I declared concisely.

I then turned my back on her and left the Turner residence. I had to make her understand just how badly she fucked up. Because she did. Really fucking badly. So where I’d usually fawn over her, I paid no attention to her pathetic cries behind me.

Instead, I texted Kenny.

**E.C:** Get ur skinny ass over 2 City Wok, pronto.

**K.M:** K

Never did I ever think that punching a punching bag would be more satisfying than a bag of cheesy poofs. But it was. Oh it was. Even Lu Kim noticed, and gave me a nod as I annihilated the punching bag with kicks and hooks and jabs and everything I had in me. Kenny didn’t say anything, which was probably for the better. He knew I’d probably tell him on our way home. He was my walking journal, after all. A trusted secret-keeper, if you will. I left out the more compromising parts, but other than that, gave him a full recount. He then patted me on the back and we went our separate ways.

Of course, the whole event was going in my actual journal too. Except that in there, I omitted no detail. My journal was private, of course, and that meant that only I would read it.

I switched off the bedside lamp and contemplated sending Heidi a goodnight text. After some deliberation, I decided not to. I reminded myself that I already bid her goodnight personally. And I would probably get spammed with messages. Not that I hadn’t already. I had to put my phone off vibrate just because so many messages were being sent through. Typical bitch thinking that a crying emoji would sway me. Bitch would have to think again, wouldn’t she.

I kept tossing and turning despite being worn out, and I even heard Mom coming back home. She opened my bedroom door quietly and crept in, giving me a wobbly kiss on the forehead. The lavender smell was still there, but vastly indiscernible under the stench of alcohol and dick. There was nothing homely about it at all and it made me want to punch her too.

“Goodnight, Poopsikins. Sleep tight, my little man.” Mom whispered, slurring her letters, before she proceeded to wobble out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

The nightmare happened again that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? It's currently 4 in the morning and I can't wait any longer so I'm posting. Hey, at least I'm burning the midnight oil while I can. I don't know whether I did my characters a bit OC, but if I did, please tell me where. Also, should I get Kyle in, or should I wait another chapter? This one was a bit Heidi-centred.
> 
> All feedback is appreciated! I love it all, I swear, so don't hold back! It gives me motivation to write more.


	3. You're going down

I woke up the next morning feeling tired as shit. There were about a hundred messages and a dozen missed phone calls that Yours Truly ignored. Every single one. My pyjamas landed in the laundry basket as soon I crawled out of bed and I was in the shower immediately, though I still couldn’t wake up. I slapped myself lightly on either side of my face but even that didn’t work. The water seemed so enticing and warm, and if I stayed there any longer I would surely fall back asleep. So I dragged my drowsy body back out and dried myself with the most vigorous motions I could manage. That didn’t work either. At least I had high hopes for breakfast.

“Mom! Make me some coffee!” I yelled as I made my way to the kitchen table, already set with cutlery and a glass of orange juice.

“Hm?” Mom turned around, mug full of steaming liquid in one hand, wooden spoon in the other, her pink dressing gown swirling around her ankles.

“Coffee!” I demanded.

“Oh, I’m sorry Poopsie,” She took a long gulp, “Mommy used the last of the coffee beans for her cuppa. I’ll buy some more next time.”

“But Mooom!” I wailed, slamming my fists on the table, “I want some coffeeee!”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Okay, hun. Let Mommy get her purse and you can go and buy yourself some. Is that okay?”

“Fine.” I replied, kind of annoyed.

It was way too early to be dealing with people at a coffee shop, but it was better than the alternative of dealing with people when tired. Because let me tell you, you shouldn’t fuck with me at all, but especially not when I’m tired.

Not even the wind woke me up when I made my way to Tweek Bros. Coffee. Despite the fact that they had competition with the local Harbucks, which actually had good coffee, everyone still went there. The town members claimed it was because they supported local businesses more, but I knew that was complete bullshit. The Tweaks just upped their meth dosage per cup and everyone swarmed around it like flies to honey. Kenny told me when he saw Tweek collecting more meth from his garage than ever before. I told him to take a picture, and even though it was awfully blurry, it was proof nonetheless that enabled me to do essentially anything I wanted to Tweek. Kenny wasn’t such a bad sport, after all.

“Good morning!” I exclaimed in a fake cheery accent when I stepped in the store. I lucked out. Tweek himself was manning the counters and making the coffee, with his parents God knows where.

He stiffened immediately. There weren’t many people around, just a couple of old ladies in the corner needing their kick of drugs that they wouldn’t get at the pharmacy. Everyone who was a functioning member of society in this town fucked off a little while ago, so it was essentially just me and him.

“You’re- you’re not allowed here.” He said, voice quivering.

I totally forgot about the incident that got me kicked out of the store –permanently. With threats from Craig that he would whoop my ass if I so much as thought about contacting Tweek out of the music classroom. But I was sure they were empty words. Besides, I didn’t have time to go to Harbucks, so he would just have to deal with it.

“Now now, is this the way you treat a paying customer?” I tutted in mock displeasure. “Your parents sure wouldn’t be pleased about that. And neither would I.”

“Please- just get out.” Tweek begged.

“Not without a large black coffee, no cream, no sugar.” I said, crossing my arms.

Tweek twitched and went ahead to make it, but I wouldn’t let him go that easily.

“With a large sprinkling of nose candy!” I called out to him.

“We don’t – I wouldn’t ACK, –the coffee isn’t!” Tweek turned pale and started looking around in case anyone noticed. To be fair, I was never one to be quiet.

I leaned over the counter. “The customer is always right, Tweek. Always. Now hurry the fuck up. I have places to be.”

With a squeak, he set off to make my coffee. For those two minutes, he kept muttering to himself, and I had an underlying feeling that his words didn’t contain any compliments about me. Whatever. I would’ve called him out for it, but I was too tired to bother. An eternity later, he returned with my drink.

“Fucking finally.” I declared, grabbing the coffee and taking a sip. “Tastes like shit.”

It did indeed. But the kick was immediate, with the buzz quick to follow. I took my drink and headed for the door.

A small voice piped up behind me.

“You- you have to pay for that!”

I turned back around on my heel, slowly.

“You were saying something?” I asked Tweek disingenuously.

“N-no.”

I grinned and walked out the door. How kind of Tweek to offer me a beverage! Thank fuck for free coffee. I would definitely need it to get through school. The walk there didn’t seem as bad with the warm, numbing effect of the drink.

 Frowning, I took my last sip, making sure to get every last dreg, and descended past the gates of hell, going straight to my locker. I opened it to find a message from Heidi stuck on a post it note. Nice to know that the bitch went snooping through my shit while I wasn’t there. With a sharp exhale, I crumpled up the note without reading it and threw it in the trash. Well, I missed it by a good couple inches, but oh well. It was close enough. Sorting out my stuff helped me ease my mind, which was starting to race with a thousand thoughts a minute. Jesus, Tweek sure wasn’t stingy with the meth. I was about ready to buzz up and down from the ceiling and back, leaping from wall to wall. I held the door of the locker to steady myself as I tried organising the contents of my locker. My fingers trembled uncontrollably, as I decided to fuck it; closed my locker shut and sank to the floor.

I don’t know how long I sat there for. It seemed like a lifetime to me, but it couldn’t have been longer than ten minutes, as people started milling around their lockers, getting all their essentials for homeroom. I vowed to heaven above to never drink Tweek Bros. Coffee ever again. The feeling of tiredness I had before was nothing compared to what was happening now. The bouncy feeling eased up slightly when I drank a whole litre of water but that was about it.

I tried to stand back up again.

Oh fuck. Oh, Jesus. Oh, God. I felt shaky without having any control over it. Pulling myself together, I took a deep breath, looking at the floor the whole time. I was better than this. I wasn’t going to let a drug affect me that badly.

I heard footsteps approaching. A whole bunch of them.

I looked up to see a sea of blue in front of me, pinning me to my locker. Above the blue was Craig’s face, standing at an impressive six feet. Well shit. Looks like Craig was on the warpath. I couldn’t get enough breath, with short, rapid inhales not being fast enough. Nothing was fast enough.

“The fuck do you want, Fucker?” I said as normally as I could manage.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson.” Craig spoke slowly, too slowly, with the same annoying nasally voice that made me want to throw a box of tissues at him. “To not mess with Tweek.”

“Big boyfriend come to the rescue, huh?” I bleated as he shook me. The words were slipping out of my mouth faster than I could process them. Not that I disagreed with anything I said, but I would’ve preferred to handle things a little more diplomatically.“Tweek can’t do anything without your interference, can he? You like being his hero. It helps you pretend you’re not an asshole. When you are. You’re an asshole, Craig. An emotionless asshole fag-”

Craig punched me.

Hard.

I physically felt the cracking inside my nose, along with the metallic taste of blood as it trickled down my lips.

But there wasn’t any pain.

Not even a sting. Just the sound of my heart slamming against my ribcage continuously and my lungs giving out as I took more rapid breaths. I always wondered how Tweek could rip out half of the hair on his head and not be fazed. And now I got my answer. Just like that, my confidence skyrocketed. Oh fuck. This was going to get good, wasn’t it?

I laughed in Craig’s face.

He looked kind of shocked, and to be completely honest, I was too. If I weren’t currently high off my ass I would’ve broken down. But the confusion written all over his usually apathetic face just made me laugh louder.

A quite large crowd gathered, and I scanned the faces there until I found a particular one. He had to be there somewhere. My eyes darted left and right until I found him. That orange parka was always easily recognisable. I looked at Kenny and he looked at me; he then nodded permission.

“You want a real fight, Fucker? Put me down and I’ll pound your ass harder than your boyfriend!” I threatened, losing all sense of everything.

A chant of ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!” broke out almost instantaneously, with a bunch of cheers and applause. Begrudgingly, Craig let go. Somewhere, in the very back of my mind, the rational side told me the facts; Craig was at least ten times more active than me, and a shit ton taller as well. No-one in the school dared fuck with him because he was really damn intimidating. A couple kids in the past that called him a fag also got the ‘up the wall punch’ treatment. But did he know how to fight? That was the answer I was about to find out.

We started the ritual of circling eachother, him slowly, and desperately trying to hide his surprise at my reactions so far. I guess he wasn’t expecting it, but then again, neither did I. I hopped on my feet, because I was fucking ready. Too ready to stand there and wait for him to make a move. So I decided to go first.

An uproar of noise reverberated around the hall as I kicked Craig straight in the abdomen, causing him to fall back into the lockers, bewildered. The flashes of phones as they started recording didn’t bother me nearly as much as my racing mind was.

It was game on.

 He lunged straight ahead for me. Which was a really stupid move on his part. I stepped to the side, and before either of us knew what was really happening, I aimed for his thighs in a low kick before moving back again, waiting for him to turn around to retaliate. And he fucking did.

The punches he gave out must’ve been really fucking strong, because in a matter of seconds, my vision worsened considerably as I tried blocking his attack. Unfortunately for him, my swelling eyelids were hurting as badly as if a butterfly sat on them.

I let out a raucous cackle.

Because it turned out that Craig was a rookie when it came down to it. Sure, he was strong and he had good aim, but he couldn’t actually fight for shit. My legs went flying into his ribs, and as he put his guard down to protect that area, I punched him in the face again and again. Most of the time when he swung to hit me, I was already out of his reach. This was fun.

“Come on, Fucker! Can’t take any more?” I taunted as he hit less frequently, less precisely.

He replied by putting his middle finger up in the air, which I responded to by doing a left hook on his exposed face. That seemed to have done the trick, as the other side of his head hit the lockers and he went sprawling on the floor.

Seeing Craig like that; defeated, powerless, at my mercy – was fucking awesome. In that moment, I was bloody invincible. I put my arms up in the air as the crowd roared. I span around to see everyone’s flabbergasted faces, including that of Clyde and Token. Who were barely holding onto a rather furious spaz.

“Craig!” Tweek cried out, horrified.

I glanced at him. Yeah, Craig didn’t seem in such good condition.

I decided to go for a challenge. If Craig –the supposedly scary one– was not that hard to beat, then Tweek would’ve been no match at all.

“Clyde, Token! Let Tweek come at me. I’ll give the both of those assholes a threesome they’ll never fucking forget!”

I had Tweek triggered. Even if they hadn’t wanted to, he was already out their grasp and charging towards me. There was so much malice in his eyes it was unbelievable.

“You’re going down!” I yelled.

You know how there’s that rule... what’s it called again? Oh, ‘Never underestimate your opponent.’. Yeah... Tweek turned out to be a lot harder to go against. And I mean a lot harder. Fuck, that sounds really damn gay.

He was throwing punches like his life depended on it, and though they weren’t as powerful as Craig’s (not that I felt them anyway) but they were a lot more frequent. I mean, what did I expect from someone who could never sit still, for fuck’s sake! It was annoying as shit as I kept having to bat him away like some pesky fly. Except that he didn’t buzz off. And he held his guard. He was experienced. That reminded me of the time in elementary school we made him do boxing. Well, shit. How come my brain only registered that fact after I chose to challenge him? So maybe his punches were just as bad, but my face was so beat up I couldn’t even register any feelings there anymore. Nevertheless, I tried reciprocating the gesture, but he blocked, and he blocked good. Only one of my punches went through, and it was just met with a disgruntled scrunch of his nose and an eye twitch. The lack of pain was probably due to the fact that he was also on speed, though not as much as me, because he did react to the pain stimuli at least a bit.

I had to think. Which was really fucking hard with Tweek trying to beat me unconscious and my heart pounding simultaneously, with everyone cheering and shouting. Okay, I had to scheme, and think of a plan of action quickly. I obviously couldn’t use his pain to my advantage; punching him was starting to exhaust me, and not effective anyway. However, I could use my surroundings to my advantage. And my legs.

I stepped back and he followed, intent on revenge. I stood there, anticipating his punches, and not putting up much of a fight as he pummelled me wherever he could. Eventually, he paused to look at me. Good. Now he had to take the bait.

“Do your worst.” I smirked, pushing my face forward enticingly and keeping my arms by my sides.

Tweek stared for a second, puzzled.

“Well? Are you going to avenge your sorry little fag on the floor over there or would you rather join him?” I remarked cockily. “I’ll give you one free hit.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in that moment. Everything was silent as Tweek pulled his arm back, ready to strike.

And he hit.

Fuck.

I roundhouse kicked him straight after;  but a millisecond too slow. Tweek’s ribs cracking was drowned out to me by my own internal screaming. Everything turned blurry. And not just slightly.

I blinked a couple times rapidly to try and make it go away. A large amount of liquid built up in my mouth, so I spat it out, along with some other stuff. I could just make out Tweek leaning against the lockers, coughing. I stumbled up to him, and he stood back up, straight, took one deep breath. And I kid you not, fell to his knees, clutching his side in agony before he curled up in fetal position on the floor.

Oh fuck.

I was about two seconds away from passing out myself. My head was spinning, objects becoming vivid blurs, until a particularly orange blob appeared beside me, hauling my ass away from the screaming crowd.

“What the fuck was that about!” Kenny demanded. “You fucking idiot!”

He sounded really pissed off.

“You could’ve killed him, or, more likely, yourself!”

I groaned.

“You’re fucking retarded. I hope you know that!” Kenny seethed.

“’M’s’rry.” I muttered weakly into his arm.

“No you’re not.” He repositioned himself so that he was carrying more of my weight as I drooped further down. “We should get you to the hospital.”

“N’optle!” I rambled. I doubted anyone else would’ve understood me, but Kenny was always badass enough to comprehend indiscernible speech.

“Yes hospital, man. I know you fucking hate those things, but Tweek knocked some of your teeth out and we need to get them back in, ASAP.”

“Dntst.” I replied groggily.

“You wish. It’s not just your teeth that are fucked up. You’re gonna need stitches for that nose of yours, along with a bunch of other medical exams.” Kenny said firmly.

I tried shaking my head into his sleeve to dissuade him, but Kenny didn’t care.

“I’m still actually shocked that you made it past the first punch without blacking out. But you’ll tell me about everything later. Now just focus on not dying, because, trust me, you don’t wanna go to hell just yet.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. With all my might, I wanted to fall asleep, but the drugs in my body wouldn’t let me do that.

Kenny dragged me outside the school before calling an ambulance. Most likely, with all the commotion in the hall, the others wouldn’t have even thought of that. Just shows how one broke ass boy can be of more use than a whole bunch of butt-fucking traitors. I saw them in the crowd. Every single one. And I wouldn’t forgive them.

Within a matter of seconds, or days, I was in the hospital as some doctor or nurse or someone touched my limp body and filled in some charts. Kenny was next to me, using my phone for some unknown reason. I let my body go lax and just endured whatever was about to come. My eyes closed and I heard some muted voices on the other side, but for the life of me, I couldn’t care what they were talking about. Unless it was about my funeral- then I wanted an open casket made out of oak and bouquets of gardenias as well as white tiger lilies.

I felt the prick of a needle in my arm, and fell unconscious.

The nightmare happened once more.

It was extra hyper-realistic this time, more so than ever before, as if my memory had refreshed the painful event.

 

**They were all there.**

**The traitors.**

**Clyde, Token, Jimmy, Stan, Butters, Craig.**

**And Kyle.**

**Their ringleader.**

**He always was out to ruin my life, and in this, he succeeded.**

**I stood there.**

**Weak.**

**Vulnerable.**

**As they mercilessly slashed through two Christmases’ and a birthdays’ worth of stuff.**

**My stuff.**

**I fell to the floor of the old cabin, my face smashing against the wooden panels.**

**A dark abyss formed around me, and everything replayed.**

**Again and again.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I don't know what to say about this chapter. I can confidently say I was never under the influence of meth so my most reliable source was Google.  
> Personally, I don't really like it, but I'd love to know what you think, what parts I should change or anything like that. Because, I dunno. There's just something off about this one.
> 
> P.S) Not to sound like a attention-seeker, but could anyone explain to me why 10,000 words in and I haven't even had 120 people check this out. Am I just posting at the wrong time or do people just not like my work or something? All of this is making me feel kind of down to be honest.


	4. Back against the wall

Everything was numb.

But not like the awesome, kickass numbness from before. It was more of a chilling drowsiness that persisted throughout my whole body. It fucking sucked, but I guessed it would be better than any other alternative.

Wearily, I opened my eyes.

Colours and shapes span round and round until everything blurred together and mixed, forming objects that were fuzzy, but I was able to get used to it after a couple blinks.

“Poopsikins!” Mom exclaimed gleefully, “You’re alright!”

She embraced me as best she could, and I tried to reciprocate only to find that I couldn’t. My arms could only extend so far before the tubes they were attached to would resist. Nevertheless, I let her squeeze the shit out of me. She was wearing that nice lavender perfume that I really liked on her.

“How are you feeling, hun?” Mom asked, stroking my cheek.

“Like shit, probably. I don’t know. I can’t feel anything.” I replied.

“That’s good, I guess? But what happened to you?” She asked worriedly.

“Oh. Just some stuff.” I answered vaguely.

“Poopsikins, ‘Just some stuff’ isn’t an answer. You knocked one boy unconscious and broke some other boy’s two bottom ribs! That’s really serious.” Mom said, pretending to be stern with me. We both knew she wasn’t.

“Well they started it.” I whined. “And look what they did to me!”

I gestured to myself. The numbness was wearing off slightly, and I could feel a light tingle in one leg and a much more agonizing throb the entirety of my face –  literally from ear to ear.

Mom sighed deeply.

“Eric, what have I told you? You can’t just get into fights like that even if it was someone else’s fault. This behaviour just isn’t going to cut it. We’re going to have to get you another visit with Dr. Marlen.”

“Dr. Marlen can kiss my black ass, that’s what he can do.” I muttered to myself.

“Eric!” Mom chastised resentfully.

“What?” I gestured with my hands, “You’re supposed to be here with grapes and flowers and comfort for me, not doing whatever this shit is. A good mother would’ve told me what they did to me while I was unconscious, but you come here and fucking nag me for something that I didn’t start!”

She instantly stopped smiling, and guiltily rubbed her hands together, looking down at the floor as if it were somehow of great interest to her.

“Well, Eric, the doctors did reconstructive rhinoplasty on you and gave you a couple stitches here and there for precaution. And they managed to save most of your teeth, too.”

“What do you mean, _most_ of my teeth?” I asked, offended.

“Calm down, sweetie, it’s not that bad. There’s only three that were too damaged to be inserted back into their tooth canals. Other than that, you’ll be fine.”

“Fine?” I repeated, perturbed. “ _FINE?_ Let me see!”

She fished out a small compact mirror out of her handbag, holding it out to at arm’s length, as if she was worried that I’d rip her hand off with it too.

I fiddled with the clasp angrily, until it gave out with a click, and I took a good look at my face. My hair was dishevelled and sticking up in sweaty clumps, but that was nothing compared to what was underneath it. One of my eyes was a deep, prune-like purple and swollen shut, and the other wasn’t in good shape either. There were a couple stitches on that eyelid, just beneath my eyebrow. The entirety of my nose was covered in bandages, extending past my cheeks, which swelled up, making me look like one giant, red balloon. I opened my mouth to see just which teeth exactly she was talking about. The tooth at the bottom right after my canine had silver lining along its interior, as well as the one after it. I ran my finger across them gently at the front and prodded the silver stuff with my tongue.

“They’re implants, Poopsikins. There’s also one in the top right corner, right at the back. But it’s fine, no one can tell they’re fake. So you can smile to your heart’s content.” She consoled.

I stared into the mirror some more, looking at myself from every angle. Good thing I was numb, because the whole thing looked incredibly painful. The ‘thing’ being my face. That Craig and Tweek fucking ruined. Those fuckers!

Mom checked her phone and frowned.

“I’m sorry Poopsikins, Mommy has to get going to work. I’ll come and visit you soon, okay my little man? Try and get some rest and be good for the doctors.” She gave me a kiss on the forehead and rushed out of the room before I could even say a single word.

So that was it? Her phone didn’t even make a sound or vibration. I knew hospitals weren’t her thing either, but I didn’t think she’d make up an excuse to get out so quickly. Vexed, I threw the mirror at the closed door. It landed with a small thump a few feet away. The fact that it didn’t even break into pieces upon impact made me even more resentful.  leaned back against the pillow, brooding. Fucking bitch.

Then, I  wondered how long I’d been here, or, even better, something to occupy myself with as the numbing effect started vanishing. I looked around and found my phone laying on a square, gray cabinet next to me. Carefully, I eased my way over to the side until I could reach it, after which I snatched it and texted a message to Kenny to come over.

And then I waited. I tried playing some games or browsing the web, but the internet connection at Hell’s Pass Hospital was crap. There wasn’t even anyone to talk to, the room was small and isolated from everyone. I groaned. The numbness was really starting to wear off, and that was not a good thing at all. It was like a stampede of wild animals had trampled over my face and I was only feeling the effects now. And oh my fucking God was it driving me insane. I spied the emergency assistance button and slammed my hand on it.

Almost instantly, a dark-skinned nurse came running up to my bed, dreadlocks flying behind her, and started checking me over frantically.

“What’s the emergency?” She asked after having had not found any signs of my limbs falling off.

“Yeah, I want some more of that numbing shit. My face hurts like a bitch and I could use some more right about now.” I told her.

She glared at me. “I’m sorry, but I’m not legally allowed to give you another dosage of morphine until at least another three hours.”

“Oh come on! If anyone can do it, it’s you!”

“Excuse me?” The nurse raised her eyebrows and put one hand over her chest sassily. “Are you trying to insinuate something?”

“I’m trying to insinuate that you should give me something to ease the pain. It’s not my problem if black people are offended by everything these days.” I retorted.

“Not going to happen for another three hours, young man.” The nurse turned around and stormed out the room, evidently pissed off at my comment.

I pressed the emergency button again.

The door opened and she came rushing back, until she realised it was me who pushed the button. She then stopped and crossed her arms. “You’re only supposed to call for help if you’re actually in an emergency.”

“Well this is a fucking emergency! I’m hungry and my face hurts like a son of a bitch. Give me some of that drug thing and some Kentucky Fried Chicken too, while you’re at it.”

“That does not classify as an emergency. If you press the button one more time, I’m dismantling it. And stop with the bigoted remarks.” The nurse declared. I don’t think she realised the fried chicken was supposed to be for me, but whatever. Someone seemed really bitchy today, and near to their breaking point.

Good.

I reached out toward the button and pressed it slowly, not breaking eye contact with her for the entire time. I mouthed another slur at her as I did so. The pure, unbridled anger that flooded her face made me feel accomplished and a little more at peace with myself. But that was only the beginning. She marched over to the side of my bed and kneeled down, fiddling with the wires, not paying attention to me.

I started recording with my phone.

“Why are you dismantling my emergency button, nurse?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady and relaxed.

“You know very well why, you little racist bastard! I’m not paid enough to deal with your shit.” She spat.

I turned the phone around to record my ‘shocked’ face before turning it back around, placing it in a position in which it would be harder for her to notice what I was doing.

After a couple moments, she stood back up, simpering  victoriously, the little platform with the button on it in her palm.

“There! You’re not getting your morphine and you’re not going to go around pissing me off either.” The nurse said.

“Nurse, can’t you do anything at all? Please, I’m in pain.” I ‘cried’.

“Sure thing!  Just press the emergency button, and I’ll come running.” She snorted before turning around and going towards the door.

Rapidly, I turned the camera to face the empty socket where the button used to be before ending the recording.

“Hey, bitch!” I yelled. “Wait up!”

The nurse carried on walking.

“Guess who’s getting sued?” I cackled maliciously.

I turned on the recording and played it at full volume.

She turned around to look at me. Her jaw dropped for a couple of seconds.

“So, what’s it going to be, nurse?” I asked, grin spreading across my face.

“You can’t do that! Blackmailing someone is illegal!” She uttered.

“And what you just did isn’t? Don’t try and say that the cameras in here also record audio, because we both know that this hospital is underfunded already, and wouldn’t fork out that much cash. If we go to court, it’s my word against yours. And it seems like I’ve got the advantage here.” I said, waving my phone at her. “You can even take this, if you like. I already sent the video file to my computer.”

The muscles in her face twitched irritably. She was powerless.

“Now, where were we again, nurse? Ah, my morphine. And some Kernel, if you will.”

Reluctantly, the nurse went and got the refill for my medicine. Thankfully for me, there was immediate relief after the IV was renewed. She then reconnected the emergency button, though she looked like she wanted to murder me with it instead.

“Why do I have the feeling I know exactly why they beat you up?” She blabbed, a little too loud for my liking.

I smirked cruelly. “Ah! Ah! Ah! Play nice, dear nurse. Remember, your career’s at stake here. ”

She went away without another word.

Man, being in control felt good.

She arrived a short while later with my KFC, and I could see in her eyes that she would’ve loved nothing more than to just throw it at me. But she couldn’t.

“Nya nya nya nya nya nya! You have to obey whatever I tell you to do! Ha ha ha ha ha!” I tormented her as she retreated out of the room.

Sure, it may have been a little immature and outdated, but who cared? After finishing my chicken, I decided to have a power nap. There wasn’t really much else to do apart from lay there in silence and wait for Kenny to arrive, anyway.

I awoke to feel Kenny sitting on a stool beside the bed, poking my shoulder, hard. Leisurely, I yawned, then sat up and faced him.

“Fucking finally! What took you so long?” I complained.

“My pleasure to have rescued you yesterday. You really don’t need to thank me.” Kenny answered back. “I happened to be at school, unlike someone, who’s been laying around doing nothing.”

“I wasn’t doing nothing, Ken. In fact, I was quite busy. I already have one nurse twisted around my little finger.”

“Manipulation doesn’t count as being productive, fatass.”

“Well, I’m sorry Kinny, but the whole point of hospitals is to lay around doing nothing.” I remarked. “What the fuck am I supposed to do here apart from heal?”

Kenny stared at me for a moment, head cocked to the side as if he didn’t believe I wasn’t understanding something that he apparently did. “Somehow, you managed to message me. You could’ve at least texted Heidi that you’re still alive. The poor girl’s been worried sick, and blaming herself for it too.”

Ugh.

I rolled my eyes.

Typical Heidi.

Using my stay at the hospital to make herself the victim and get sympathy.

“Typical Heidi? Seriously, fatass?” Kenny scolded.

“What? I wasn’t thinking that at all!”

It was Kenny’s turn to roll his eyes. “You're forgetting that ever since you ate my ashes we’re kind of interlinked, dumbass. Try as hard as you like, you can’t bullshit me.”

I kind of regretted eating Kenny’s ashes now. Looking back at it, they didn’t even taste that good, anyway. And they came with the disadvantage of us having basic telepathy with eachother. Which really fucking sucked ass. Thank fuck it was only the most basic comments that went through, no more than a couple words at most, if any at all, and only the strongest emotions passed between us. It could’ve been worse, much worse, but still, having Kenny be able to rape my mind even the slightest bit was disturbing. It didn’t help that he was nearly as good as me in analysing people, and he didn’t even need the telepathy to get the gist of what I was thinking.

“But I’m still mad at her.” I whined.

“Give her a break. I know you’re insecure–”

“I’m not insecure! I happen to be very well endowed, as a matter of fact.” I butted in.

“Yeah, sure. You keep telling yourself that.” Kenny commented sarcastically before continuing, “But she’s really beating herself up about the whole situation. I saw her crying in the corner behind the water fountain today.”

 Did Heidi really do that? Kenny never lied to me before. And the mental image of her like that made me feel both slight arousal and guilt for letting her get that way. She was my Baby, after all.

“Good. The bitch deserves it.” I remarked, but I couldn’t quite meet his eyes while saying that.

Kenny smiled triumphantly.

“So, what else happened at skewl today?” I asked, trying to change topic. “Is everyone stoked on me?”

“Depends on who you ask. The videos people recorded spread like wildfire. Except that most of them start when you throw the first punch, so good luck explaining to PC Principal why you attacked a sexually marginalised minority.”

“Yeah, yeah. I can deal with that. What about the others? Are they stoked?” I questioned.

“I’d say that most of the students aren’t as stoked on you as they are scared, but that’s only because they saw the damage done to Tweek and Craig when they came to school today. Nearly everyone assumed you were either sent off to the loony bin or back to Juvenile Hall.”

“Well, they’re going to be in for a nice surprise on Monday, huh poor boy?” I laughed. “Good thing I still have the weekend to make myself look more normal. But my face doesn’t look too bad, does it?” I queried, touching my cheeks, trying to see if the swelling went down. No such luck.

“Cartman, you were always ugly. If anything, this whole situation makes you actually look better.”

“Asshole!” I spat at Kenny in return.

“Mighty use of intellect too, I see.” Kenny replied. “People of Denver, have you heard? The deformed monkey thing can recognise its own features!”

I glowered at Kenny as he laughed his ass off. After a couple minutes and with a few deep breaths, he composed himself, but the creases in his lips were still turned upward in delight.

“Nah, but seriously though. What the fuck happened?” He asked curiously.

“Long story short, I decided to grab some coffee from Tweek Bros. and kind of accidently on purpose pissed Tweek off, so he dumped a whole bunch of meth in my coffee. Then he obviously must’ve gone and told Craig, because when I was standing at my locker, high off my ass, Craig decided to pin me up higher than his future and give me a good old fashioned punch. Which I laughed off cause I couldn’t feel jack shit. The meth made me overconfident–”

“As if you weren’t overconfident enough already.” Kenny butted in unhelpfully.

“Shut the fuck up Kinny. And I challenged him to a fight, with your permission, of course. You were there to witness the rest yourself. I totally obliterated Craig’s ass. And Tweek’s too.”

“You sure did.” Kenny agreed politely with a small smile.

Now that was suspicious. Kenny never sucked up to me unless he wanted... cash.

“How much?”

“Give me enough for a bus ride to City Wok and a ticket to get in. Just because you’re stuck here doesn’t mean I’m going to waste away.” He replied immediately.

I took off my phone case and gave him the fifty bucks stashed inside.

Kenny’s eyes lit up as if I just gave him the world.

“Thanks dude!” He blurted out cheerfully, standing up and putting the stool back under the bed. “I love you!”

“Feed your family with it or buy some Playboys with it, I don’t care. And no homo, dude.”

“No homo.” He agreed ecstatically as he skipped out of the room as gaily as he fucking could.

Feeling slightly better, I lay back down on the bed in a more comfortable position. Maybe Kenny wasn’t wrong. I could be mad at Heidi some other time. But making up over text seemed really lame. I sent her a quick message. That I had to rewrite a dozen times because I had to make it sound like I forgave her, but not quite entirely, if that makes sense.

**E.C: Hey. Don’t worry about me, honey. I’m alive and doing quite well. I’m actually in Hell’s Pass in case you cared. Nothing too major. Feel free to visit me in room 1607, there’s nothing much to do around here anyways.**

There. That was good enough. The perfect blend of passive aggressiveness and forgiveness with a touch of love.

I exhaled deeply, placing my phone to the side.

The next eight hours passed in peaceful sleep.

Surprisingly, I woke up feeling refreshed. The sun outside was shining in through my window, and I just _felt_ better overall. My favourite nurse returned with a breakfast tray for me, and afterwards, took it away obediently. She didn’t even have that much of a sullen look on her face. Always a pleasure.

About half an hour later, she returned with some news for me.

“You’ve got a visitor. They’re saying they need to talk to you. Do you want me to let them in?”

“Is it my sunshine, Heidi?” I asked, clasping my hands together in delight.

“Not unless Heidi is a guy’s name.” The nurse replied.

“Oh, it’s probably Kenny then.” I answered. “It’s actually shock he didn’t barge in the room himself.”

“What, you mean orange parka boy? The one that visited you yesterday? No, it’s not him either.”

“Well then who is it?” I questioned.

“They told me not to tell you.”

I straightened up. Back against the wall. A dozen faces flashed through my mind, but none of them inherently fit. It had to be someone who knew the room number I was in, but the only guy that did was Kenny. Unless he told someone. But who would he tell? The person standing behind the door, obviously. I checked my messages quickly. Heidi didn’t read my message yet, but it was fair enough, I texted her quite late last night. Didn’t this hospital have visiting hours? Obviously not. My curiosity got the better of me, and I gave up guessing.

“Let him in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I am back with another chapter for you wonderful people? What do you think? Please leave any comments or criticisms. As I keep saying, it makes me really happy to know that my work is appreciated, and it's a huge motivation booster for me! And, are my chapters too long? Or should I add more?
> 
>  
> 
> P.S Does anyone know how to delete the Notes box underneath this one? It's kinda starting to piss me off a little bit.


	5. One way or another

My favourite nurse exited the room. A couple moments later, the door slid slightly open, a crack between the door frame and the door itself. I swallowed. It was like that person was deliberately fucking with me, piquing my curiosity.

I coughed pointedly, clearing my throat and signalling to the person on the other side that yes, I was alive, and yes, they had my permission to come in. I could almost feel a deep inhale from over there, and the door opened fully.

I recognised that tall figure. He was wearing cuffed up skinny jeans and a long-sleeved knitted jumper that only reached three quarters of the way due to his lanky frame. His skin was alabaster, with flecks of red here and there, as if someone dipped a paintbrush in red and flicked it onto his cheeks. A trademark lime ushanka was crammed onto his head, a few stray curls escaping down his large forehead. His thin lips were stretched out against their will into an uncomfortable smile, right under that huge, ugly nose.

It was Kyle.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I reached over to the side as fast as I could and smashed my palm against the emergency assistance so hard I almost broke it. But my nurse didn’t come running. Bewildered, I slammed the button again. Still no reaction. And again, with the same result.

“GET OUT!” I shrieked, not looking at him, pressing the button intently as if to make it work properly. Where the fuck was my nurse? I needed her, NOW!

“She’s not going to come.” Kyle spoke serenely. “I explained to her that you would probably do that as soon as you saw me and asked her not to interrupt. She seemed more than happy to oblige.”

“You’re lying!” I accused, pressing the button. The nurse couldn’t be that vindictive.

Kyle sighed. “We’re going to be here for a while if you keep doing that.”

“Not if you fuck off and leave me alone!” I spat, pushing my hand into the button full-force.

“Cartman, chill out. I just want to talk to you.” Kyle said, hands in the air, taking a step towards the bed.

“Well _I_ don’t!” I shouted, still hammering the button and no intention to stop. Someone, somewhere, had to hear it.

He took another careful step. My button-pushing speed increased, and even more force was added. My forearm was shaking by itself but I wasn’t going to quit. There still was a chance someone would come running in to check on me.

I looked back up for only a moment and internally shrieked. Kyle was standing at the foot of the bed. I went back to my task straight after, not acknowledging him. He let this go on for about a minute before his patience ran low.

“Will you fucking quit it?”

“Go away.” Was my response as I clicked the button some more.

“The quicker you let me finish, the quicker I will.” Kyle negotiated, taking another step toward me.

“The quicker someone comes here, the quicker security will kick you out.” I replied, still hoping for a miracle as I pressed it more.

“You’re going to have to think of a better tactic, then.” Kyle said curtly. “Because I don’t think you’re going to get very far with that button of yours.”

“You’re right.” I said, and moved back to the middle of the hospital bed.

Kyle looked at me for a moment, slightly perplexed and definitely suspicious– with good reason too.

I let out an ear-splitting scream.

Immediately, he came running up, covering my open mouth with one hand and clenching the other into a fist, shoving two knuckles up my nose. I tried stopping him, but my hands were still restricted due to those fucking tubes in my arms. Instead, I turned my head in all directions, shrieking like a banshee into his enclosed hand. Unfortunately for me, biting him was ineffective, the fucker knew to cup his hand around my face instead of placing it flat against my lips like they do in the movies, so I was at a disadvantage. Quickly, I ran out of breath; trying to breathe through my nostrils was a lost cause. I had to stop screaming to inhale.

I glared at him as I did.

“If I let you go, are you going to stop screeching?” He asked.

I nodded.

Steadily, he retracted his hands, and I took a couple deep breaths, relieved. However, once they were at a safe distance, I decided I changed my mind. I started screaming again, only to have them return and have the whole fight replayed. If anyone were to walk in on us, (and I hoped to God they did) they would’ve seen the commotion and I would’ve put a restraining order against Kyle for essentially trying to kill me.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Kyle grumbled after the charade was over once more, “Can you behave like a normal human being for once? I’m going to take back my hands, but if you start screaming again, I swear, I’m shoving my whole fist down your throat and yanking out your vocal chords.”

I decided not to test whether that was an empty threat or not. We both stood, just looking at each other. Both of us were panting slightly, but alert, guard not let down, in case the other tried to do something out of line.

“Okay, fine. Tell me what you want and then get the fuck out of here.” I said. “And step the fuck back. You’re too close to my face.”

Kyle did as he was told.“I want you to answer some of my questions. Honestly. I’ll get you talking. One way or another.”

“Kahl, when have I ever lied to you?” I asked, only half sarcastically.

He stayed silent, one eyebrow raised mockingly questioning.

“Exactly.” I replied, satisfied. “Now fuck off.”

“I’m not leaving.” Was the response.

Fuck Kyle and his determination. I’d make him go away soon enough.

“Then stay. I don’t care.” I stated, rolling over so that I lay on my side. Facing away from him– may I add. Not that my dislike for him wasn’t obvious enough.

Gloomily, I stared at the wall. I never actually knew that whitewashed walls were so interesting! They were so white... and washed... and so very, very interesting too! It’s just that in this life, people don’t get to look and really _feel_ the whitewashedness of the walls in their hospitals, you get me? Someone lays there in hospital and thinks about how boring the wall is, when in fact, it’s so much more than that. It’s got texture, a personality and everything–

The bed sank down a little. I turned my head to see the atrocity with my very own eyes. Kyle sitting on _my_ hospital bed. Sitting there, looking at me, straight-faced without so much as a trace of a smile. But his eyes spoke more than every other feature combined. Those orbs positively glittering with malicious delight. He was getting a kick out of this. As he peered at me for approval, it struck me that from a distance, his eyes were the exact colour of Kermit the frog, and I had to stifle an uncalled for smile myself. But then I remembered that he was a fucking asshole, sitting on my fucking bed.

“What are you doing?” I asked, looking him up and down.

“Sitting. As Your highness is uncomfortable with me being near the vicinity of your face, I decided to sit here instead.”

“Then get yourself a stool like any other normal person would do. Or stand. Or, better yet, fuck off.”

“I couldn’t possibly. The stool happens to be located under your bed, directly beneath your shoulders. I figured that was too close for your liking.”

“With you, anywhere within a five hundred kilometre radius is too close for my liking.” I spat.

He made himself more comfortable, repositioning himself, leaning one hand against the mattress. Now he was just pushing my limits. I tried kicking at him with my leg, but of course that fucking failed. And made me wince in pain as well. Kyle smiled as if nothing happened.

Groaning, I leaned over the side of the bed, trying to locate the stool. There was no fucking way I would just let him sit there, invading my personal space. I squinted, and saw the three legged chair underneath. I reached out to grab it. But something beat me. I heard the cringing sound of metal scraping against the floor as it moved further into the darkness. What the ever-loving fuck? Stools didn’t move by themselves. Quickly, I looked up to see Kyle dangling one long-ass leg  off the bed and the other situated conveniently where –if extended– would’ve reached the stool. That sly fuck kicked my stool away.

“Oops.” He simpered innocently, repositioning himself again so that he was sat cross-legged on the bed, taking up even more space. “Guess I’ll just have to stay here, then.”

“Kahl. Stop it!” I tried kicking him again, but it was useless. “As soon as I’m out of here, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Like you did Tweek and Craig?”

“No.” I said with a short laugh. “I’m gonna make you look _worse._ ”

“Why did you, though?” Kyle inquired, voice steady, completely unfazed. “Stand up to fight against them? It doesn’t seem like something you’d usually do.”

Is this what it was about? It was Kyle, after all, so yes it fucking was.

“Is this for the school newspaper or because you feel like playing therapist-peacemaker?” I rebutted. “I’m guessing the latter, because Jews can’t write compelling stories for shit.”

Kyle glared at me, losing part of his composure. I knew I must’ve hit the nail right on the head.

“Have you ever heard of the Old Testament, dumbass? That was written by Jews.”

“And that’s the reason why Christians separated themselves from your kind to make a new one.” I laughed as the tips of Kyle’s ears and nose turned red with anger.

“Can we get back to the topic?”He asked, voice strained to appear calm.

Kyle never liked losing control. Then again, neither did I. And currently, I wasn’t in the mood to stop. It was my turn to piss him off. And nothing ever got under his skin like Jew comments.

“Could we not? I’d much prefer you go away.” I replied easily. “Along with the rest of your people. Preferably to their graves.”

Kyle closed his eyes for a couple moments, fists clenched. I watched him as he took in deep breaths, chest rising and falling shakily. I wondered how much self control he had to be exhibiting in order not to hit me.

“You really don’t want to talk, do you?” Kyle stated.

Someone give this guy a medal; he figured it out!

“No shit, Sherlock. Give me one good reason why I should be answering to you and I might reconsider. Not the part where I tell your people to die– I still fully agree with that part.”

Kyle sat up straight, rolled his eyes at me, and then bit his lower lip, thinking.

“How about this. I ask you a question, you answer honestly and then we swap over. Nothing is off limits and we have to answer. We’ll take it in turns and do three each. And then I fuck off. Sounds good?”

“Okay. But how do I know if you’re trying to deceit me?” I challenged.

“Because unlike you, I’m not a compulsive liar.” Kyle snapped back.

Yeah, as if. He seemed to have forgotten all his faults, hadn’t he? But I remembered. He _knew_ they were gonna break my stuff. I could’ve bet my life on the fact it was him who thought up of the idea in the first place. I decided it would be fun to try and prove his hypocrisy to him.

“Fine.” I said.

“My first question to you. What happened between you and Craig and Tweek, from your perspective? Or, in other words, what the fuck did you do to piss them off? And how’d you actually beat them?” Kyle asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity

“I swear that’s like, three questions already. I’m only gonna answer the first one. Basically, Tweek was mad at me because I didn’t pay him for coffee, and then Craig got pissed off because of course he did, I was fucking with his precious little twink and he couldn’t deal with the fact that Tweek doesn’t need his protection, so I challenged him to a fight.” I explained. “Happy? No? I don’t care, it’s my go anyway.”

“I guess it is.” Kyle agreed warily.

“What kind of porn do you watch?”

Kyle made a ridiculously hilarious offended face. “I’m not answering that! Trust you to think up of the most stupid questions. Ask me a different one.”

“No way. Just a couple minutes ago, you said nothing is off limits. So that means I get to ask you what kind of porn you watch. And you _have_ to answer. Your words, not mine.” I lifted my hands up to emphasise my point.

“But I didn’t think you’d ask me _that_ type of question. I thought you’d go for something along the lines of ‘Are you gay for Stan?’ or something.”

“Well, shame on you. That’s not what I asked. And the answer to that is pretty fucking obvious anyway. You don’t, not anymore, but he sure does fawn over you a lot. Always has, always will, no matter how hard Wendy tries to whip his ass straight. Now, answer my question.” I ordered.

Kyle looked at the door, and back at me. But he seemed to hold back, probably because he still had some more personal shit to ask me. “You know, I could just make up any type and you’d be none the wiser.”

“I know. You always were a raging hypocrite, you’re just as bad with honesty as I am. Except that you always try to make a justified reason for it. Whatever helps you sleep at night, I guess. But if it makes you feel better, I’m going to rip on you no matter what you say.” I replied consolingly.

“Normal, straight, monogamous porn.” Kyle answered, but his eyes flitted away. And his reply was as fake as you could possibly get.

“That is a lie, and you know it, Kahl. What kind of insane person gets off to that basic shit? ‘Fess up truthfully, or I’m not answering yours.”

“Fine. Fine. Alright!” Kyle took a deep breath.

I saw his cheeks flush a flaming red, and I knew he was going to be honest this time.

He seemed to have mouthed the words more than he actually spoke them but it was clear enough for me to understand.

“Watersports.”

“Oh my fucking God!” I started roaring with laughter. “That’s the most hilarious thing I could imagine. Kyle, the uptight Jew by day; a total piss-slut by night. PiPi’s Splashtown must’ve given you a lot of awkward boners, huh Kyle?

Kyle hit me on the shin. “Shut the fuck up. It’s just subdued childhood trauma that my brain can’t cope with, so the memory’s been repressed and turned sexual. And I–  Not that often! Just porn. Nothing else apart from it. Now, stop fucking laughing, it’s my go to ask you one. I’m serious, Cartman.”

“Go ahead.” I said, unable to stop smirking. Kyle and watersports.

“Do you actually love Heidi?” He asked.

My smirk turned into a frown instantly. Trust Kyle to turn things up from zero to a hundred in the span of second.

“Of course I do. Stupid question.” I replied nonchalantly.

“Really?” Kyle cocked his head to the side. “Because it seems to everyone apart from yourselves that she’s trying to whip _your_ ass straight.”

“I’m pretty fucking sure I know whether I’m straight or not, _Kahl._ Besides, that’s kind of rich coming from you. Who was your last girlfriend? I’m guessing it was that slut, Rebecca Cotswold back in third grade.”

“Oh, no. Actually I’m dating Nichole at the moment.” Kyle said, cool as ice.

He was cool as ice, but I was heating up. If this was some trashy sitcom and I had any liquid in my mouth, I would’ve spat it out at this exact moment. But I hadn’t even the tiniest trace of spit. My mouth seemed to have dried up to a desert. Kyle, going out with Nichole. Wow. Okay. This was fine. This was completely fine. I didn’t care. At all. Not that I already went to painstaking lengths to separate them once already.

“Nichole? But what about Token?” I croaked out, coughing to bring back some moisture into my speech.

“I’m not sure why they broke up, Nichole didn’t specify and I didn’t pry my nose into her business. I guess they just went their separate ways.” Kyle spoke, unfazed.

“Kewl, kewl. Good to know.” I was too dumbfounded to even make a joke about Kyle’s huge nose prying into stuff. “My go, then. Right?”

“Sure.”

‘Are you a virgin?’ was the first thing that popped into my head, but I figured it would sound just a little too psycho if said out loud. I decided to go for the censored version.

“Have you and Nichole done the dirty?”

“Do all of your questions have to be inherently sexual?” Kyle expressed, annoyed.

“Yes, they do. What, were you thinking I was gonna ask you about your favourite colour?”

“Well, no, but since the whole thing is unlimited and you can basically ask me anything, I thought you’d ask a deeper question than– ”

“I am! Were you balls deep in Nichole or not?” I folded my arms across my chest defiantly.

“What me and Nichole do is together is private!” Kyle seethed. “But if you must know –and you sure as shit aren’t going to stop pestering me until you do–  no. Not yet.”

For some inexplicable reason, it felt like a huge weight lifted off my chest. I didn’t even realise it was there until it was gone, but it made me breathe easier. Much easier. Which was like, fucking retarded, because I didn’t care what Kyle did. I didn’t try to get involved in his schemes and vice versa.

“My go.” Kyle stated straight after, I’m assuming because he thought I was going to make some snide comments about that too.

He looked straight at me. His irises darkened around the edges and pupils dilated, but the slither of bright, emerald green between the two captivated me. Unwillingly. He placed one of his hands on my shin.

“Why– Why did you stop, uh, talking to us?” He asked a little uncertainly, trying to gauge my reaction.

The memory whizzed through my head again. Kyle was the mastermind behind that group of traitors. I could feel it in my bones. He was the one who thought up with the plan, and then encouraged everyone whom I’d ever called friends to go against me. Everyone. Apart from Kenny, but that’s probably because he didn’t have the high-tech equipment to let him join in to play on our stuff. Which got me thinking. Would Kenny betray me if he had the chance? Or would he actually believe me when I told them, I told them, I wasn’t skankhunt. I had no fucking idea. But it didn’t change the fact that they did. They didn’t listen to me. Not to my honestly, not to my begging, not to anything. So I decided to stop listening to them.

And now, he was acting like he didn’t know. Like the moment wasn’t engraved into his brain through nightmares. Because of course it fucking wasn’t; he wasn’t remorseful! No, Kyle was _never_ guilty in the first place, he always had some bullshit reason to cover it up, ‘It was for the greater good.’ Or some other bullshit like that. Maybe he could try and fool other people into believing him, but not me.

One moment we’d be fighting eachother to the death, and the next, cracking jokes like nothing happened. That was just the thing with him. He used his Jew dark magic to enchant me, make me want to converse with him, and then pull that shit out from under the rug. Unfortunately for him, the curse was broken.

“Kyle.” I started off slowly, gently, my voice intensifying with hatred with every following word. “Get out of my fucking sight.”

“Cartma-”

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT, _KAHL_!”

He jumped back as if I’d just bitten him.

Suddenly, the door to my room opened, and in bust my saviour, Heidi.

“Eric, why are you shout– Oh. Hey Kyle.” She said, the obvious concern disappearing as soon as she realised who was in here with me. I couldn’t help but love my girl and her passive aggressiveness towards him.

“Oh my God, honey, you look awful. Here, it’s alright.” Heidi stepped up towards me, pulling out the stool from beneath the bed. I scowled. So a no-good dirty Jew was sitting on my bed beside me and my girlfriend was forced to sit uncomfortably on a metal plate with three rickety legs? That just wasn’t right.

With all my force, I kicked Kyle, ignoring the flame of pain that went shooting up my leg. At least he got the message. Obligingly, he stood up, and I scooched over, patting my hand on the mattress beside me for Heidi to sit down.

“Oh, thank you so much, baby. But I want you to be as comfortable as you can. I would hate to invade in your personal space, especially when you’re trying to heal. Look at you, all bruised up, my poor thing.” She gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

My girlfriend was absolutely amazing. She didn’t even acknowledge Kyle, but that jab was meant straight for him. She hit, and she scored!

“Yeah. So, anyway. Hope you get better soon. See you at school, Cartman.” Kyle said, really fucking awkwardly, and departed the room.

Inside, I was jumping for fucking joy. She did it! She made him go away! Oh halle-fucking-lujah!

I smiled up at her and she smiled right back.

“Thank fuck you’re here, my angel. Please, never leave my side again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well shitt.... How OOC was this chapter? Like, on a scale of 1-10? I don't even know. Please tell me what you thought, and any other feedback, any things you's maybe want me to include. Btw, thank you to all the people that do comment, as it's my prime source of motivation to continue. Xx


	6. Do I wanna know?

The return back to school was fucking sweet, if I may say so myself.

The pure reverence I received from each student was amazing. Damn right, and about fucking time. I strode down the corridors with Heidi hanging onto my arm, feeling like a fucking king. Most of the students stopped their actions immediately when they saw me arrive, and muted whispers arose. I grinned at every passing person. True, my face was still quite beaten up, but at least it didn’t resemble a tomato anymore, and they actually took off the bandages. If anything, the yellowing bruise and stitches served to give me a more rugged look. At least, that’s what Heidi told me. And my princess always knew best.

“This is so fucking kewl.” I whispered in Heidi’s ear when we reached my locker, that was conveniently only a corner away from Heidi’s geography class.

“I know! I feel like a movie-star walking beside the most badass guy in the school. Beating up not one, but two boys! I just _know_ all the girls are jealous.” Heidi whispered back. “But you’re not allowed to pick fights with anyone anymore, understand? I don’t care how pleased you are with yourself, I’m not going to allow it to happen again.”

She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and left to her first class.

And I went to mine. I cracked my knuckles as I entered my classroom.

The music classroom.

“ACK!” Tweek shuddered. “You’re here!”

“Yes. I’m here. Got a problem with that?” I snapped.

He twitched. “No, no! It’s just that you weren’t supposed to be here. I was hoping you wouldn’t! ARGH! Why did I say that? I mean I.. I mean.. I.. Oh fuck, man!”

He started ripping out his hair. Good. It served him right for even thinking about starting a fight with me. Still, it did increase my street cred drastically, so maybe he wasn’t that deserving of it. Tweek didn’t look that bad. I mean, apart from leaning to the side when he started hyperventilating and needed to take in a deep breath, he looked fine. I debated on whether or not take pity on him.

Maybe some other time.

“So, Tweek. It seems we have some unfinished business.” I spoke, taking a calculated step towards him, pressing my knuckles together.

 “Craig told me not to get intimidated by you, so I’m..not..going.. to–”

I took another step closer, scowling.

“– No.. No man, please. Oh, Jesus, help me! I don’t want to fight!” Tweek squeaked in terror.

Man, his fear was really fun to abuse. I was about to torture him some more, but the door opened and a messenger came in. They did this during classes to eliminate distraction, instead of using speakers, like any other normal school would. By choosing a couple from a pool of reliable students to deliver messages when asked, essentially enabling them to skip lessons. I applied for that position, but, shockingly, got rejected.

“Cartman, you sadist, leave poor Tweek alone and get yourselves to the Principal’s office. You too, Tweek. I think they want to have a discussion regarding what happened between you guys.” An annoyingly haughty voice bleated.

It just so happened to be Wendy. Fucking bitch.

I rolled my eyes and turned around to look at her.

“Me? A sadist? What gives, Wendy? On your period again, I see.” I goaded.

“Your childish insults don’t faze me.” Wendy replied.

“What about a fist in your face? Would that change your mind?” I retaliated.

Wendy gave out a huff, although she did take a small step back, hands folded across her chest protectively. “Have you thought about the fact that threatening another student really isn’t going to work out in your favour? Especially if it’s a girl.”

I barged past her and out of the classroom, making sure to step on her foot as I did so. “Wow. Wendy, an equal rights activist, bleeding heart liberal feminist saying something like that? I thought women were supposed to be treated the same as men. Equality, huh? Guess you’re finally accepting that women are the weaker gender of the two.”

I walked by nonchalantly as she started ranting about there being more than two genders, actual inequality between men and women, all while calling me a sexist bigot. I heard it all before, but any opportunity to hear her pissed off was good enough for me. She was kind of like a Kyle 2.0, except much less fun to be around. She had neither his attitude, nor his wits. It made me wonder. How did Kyle know my room number in the first place? I had to ask Kenny about it.

The meeting with PC Principal turned out to be a complete waste of time. It dragged on for too long, extending over the whole of break and the majority of the next period as I got chastised over and over for being intolerant asshole etc, etc.

In the end, I didn’t even end up with detention, as Craig bullshitted PC Principle that it would make him feel unsafe. The real reason for it was that the detention hall was his permanent dwelling, and he already knew that I would annoy the living crap out of him if I was stuck there. So, the meeting went as it would’ve gone with any adult in this town; in the end, nothing was solved. Outside his office, Craig flipped me off and pulled Tweek away, and I figured it was his way of saying everything was back to the way it was before.

Good enough.

Mom actually came to collect me straight afterwards. I knew she wanted me to visit Dr. Marlen, but that soon? Not that I was complaining about missing more of my lessons, it was fine by me. But the problem actually lay in the fact that I didn’t want to see him. The ride to his office wasn’t that long; there was little to no traffic. We spent it in silence, the only sound accompanying us being the tunes on the radio. I was still kind of displeased, but, unless I jumped out of the car, there was little I could do.

He welcomed me with that weird smile of his, and told me to come in and sit down.

“Hello, Eric. It’s nice to see you again. Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” I replied hastily. “Can you just hurry the fuck up so I can get out of here?”

Dr. Marlen wrote something down on his clipboard. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t fucking like you and want to get the fuck out of your office.”

His office was shitty. It was one of those modern ones, white walls with a black rug and red decorations dotted around the walls, a red desk chair and a matching velvet therapist lounger. It wasn’t welcoming at all, the one thing a therapist’s office should be.

“We can get on to why you dislike me and this office so much another time. Your mom said you got into a fight with some people at school. How’d that happen?”

I explained the situation to him. Not because I wanted to, but because I wanted to get this over with.

“Interesting. And what was it like at the hospital?”

Really? So he just skipped over fifteen minutes of me explaining shit to him and asked a completely irrelevant question? That’s why I fucking hated therapists. Especially him. He was supposed to be one of the most renowned in Colorado, but somehow I just didn’t see it. The only thing I saw when I looked at him was a wizened old man with balding hair and a grey goatee, that fucked my mom. That’s probably the way she could afford to send me here– I checked his website, and a hundred and twenty bucks an hour to talk to him was overkill.

“It was fine. I have no fucking idea what you’re expecting me to answer.” I huffed. “I didn’t die, the nurses took care of me, I had some visitors and that was about it.”

“Visitors?” He quizzed, jotting down some more on that clipboard of his.

“Yeah. Mom, my friend Ken, my girlfriend and– and that’s it.”

“Eric, are you sure that was all?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at me, trying to hide the judgement from his features. We both knew I was lying. Except that he was my therapist and I was positive that he couldn’t prove it.

“What was the name of your hospital?” He queried.

“Hell’s Pass.” I responded.

He checked his I-Pad. Yeah, the office was much too modern to have a good old-fashioned computer and desk, wasn’t it. I hummed as he tapped the screen.

“Eric, by any chance, do you recall someone by the name of Kyle Broflovski coming to visit you?”

Well damn. Maybe he could call me out on my bullshit.

“No.”

“Hmm. That’s strange. They must’ve made a mistake on the system.”

He could go fuck himself. There was no way in hell I was telling him about Kyle.

“You know that our visits are protected by confidentiality on my part, right Eric?” He stated.

“Yeah, right. So if I told you I was going to go shoot up a school or something, you wouldn’t tell the police?” I countered.

“Well yes, but–”

“Then confidentiality my ass, Doc!” I objected harshly, “You’re nothing more than a snitch.”

“I understand your perspective, Eric. I really do. But unless you’re planning to kill or otherwise harm him, our conversation stays anonymous.”

“Great. Seeing as I think about murdering him on the daily, I think I’ll keep this info to myself.” I replied.

He looked puzzled, a deep crease in his eyebrow, trying to figure out whether I was joking or not. Honestly, I could’ve went up there to join him in thought; I didn’t know the answer for myself.

“On the daily, you say?” Dr. Marlen probed.

“Just a figure of speech. Don’t read too deep into it.” I batted my hand as he wrote some more notes.

He clicked his pen then straightened himself up. “Okay Eric, time’s up. You can leave if you desire to do so, or you’re more than welcome to stay here and talk some more, if you wish.”

I chuckled heartily and sprinted out of his office.

When I returned back to skewl, there was only about fifteen minutes of philosophy class left, but for some god-forsaken reason, I felt compelled to go in there instead of skipping it and going straight to lunch. I didn’t even fucking like philosophy! Why I felt such an urge was a fucking mystery to me, but nevertheless, I obeyed. Hesitantly, I entered the classroom, looking around. My eyes paused when I saw one particular redhead, and it turned his head to look up at me.

He smiled. No, not smiled. Grinned. But it wasn’t nice. Far from it, actually. It was a mocking smirk, if anything, directed right at me, as if he knew something I didn’t. If his features could speak for themselves, no doubt they would’ve said something along the lines of ‘You’re _so_ fucked.’ His thin lips creased upwards in amusement, mischief written all over that goddamn face. Two thoughts swam in my head, in that exact chronological order:

What a fucking ugly carrot.

And, what the hell did he do now?

I went to sit down at my desk, mostly unperturbed, but there was that slight trepidation of the unknown down in my gut. I ignored it, trying to focus on the lesson. The teacher droned on about some upcoming independent learning project that we were going to have to do at home. I couldn’t care less. My focus kept flitting to him, sitting two rows in front of me, and whatever shitstorm he had in his mind. Fucker. But I assured myself, whatever he planned out, I would beat. And if not, I would literally beat him, because I knew I could. That ‘I’m actually not scared of you’ aura he emitted was just a facade. It had to be.

Instead of listening, I just sank down in my seat and stared at him. Mind you, don’t get it the wrong way. I was just wondering what was inside his head. What it would be like if only I had a little screwdriver to open the back of his scalp and peek inside his mind. Well, the screw on his head would probably be behind that thick bush of curls, and I’d have to get past that first. I would probably have to find a razor or scissors or something to get it all out of the way. I wondered what his hair felt like to the touch. No homo, of course.

The bell signalled for the end of the lesson, and I went out, ready to talk to Heidi. However, I couldn’t find her anywhere. She wasn’t waiting for me in the cafeteria, nor in the hallways. I checked the library, but she wasn’t there either. After, I checked our lockers, but alas, I could find no Heidi there. The feeling in my gut worsened. This was Kyle’s work. There was no other explanation.

A hand tapped the back of my shoulder.

For fuck’s sake! Not him!

“What the fuck do you want?” I snarled viciously as I turned around.

Oh; it was just Stan.

I relaxed.

“Dude, Wendy says you’ve been picking battles with her again.” Stan said, slightly taken aback by my hostility, “Could you, like, not, dude? She’s kind of sensitive right now. It’s her time... you know. And I really don’t want to hear her yapping away about your ignorance again.”

Fucking called it!

“Mhm, ‘kay, sure . Have you seen Heidi by any chance?” I asked, already back to the task of locating her. The faster I got to her, the better.

“No, sorry dude.” Stan replied, and walked away like a dog returning to its owner. Which in his case was his girlfriend. Oh, how the roles of being a submissive little bitch reversed.

I didn’t get to see Heidi until after school. I didn’t know whether that was for the better or for the worse. All I knew was that the feeling deep down worsened considerably after lunch, and I sat through the last lesson wondering whether I was going to shit myself or not. The apprehension was that intense. I knew there was something bad coming, and Kyle definitely had something to do with it.

I saw her grabbing her stuff from her locker, and almost turned right around and walked off without her. In fact, I did. Or, I tried. People near my vicinity split apart like the red sea, and at any other time I would’ve been stoked. Not this time, though. She caught up with me in a matter of moments, and I knew that there was no escape. I could only hope for the best.

“Hi Eric!” She said, placing her hand in mine. “Didn’t you see me?”

“Honey! No, I didn’t. You’re so tiny and easy to miss, my little muffin.” I replied sweetly. “I missed you at lunch as well. Where were you?”

“Oh, you know. Talking to some of my girlfriends. We have this group project we need to do about Asian culture, so we stayed after class to figure out who’s going to do what.”

I felt like I could shit myself with pure happiness. So this wasn’t what Kyle was meddling with at all. Thank the heavens! We spent the rest of the way home talking about nothing in particular, until I saw her hesitating a little, lagging behind.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Eric.. You do love me, right?” She asked doubtfully. “Because I’ve got to tell you something.”

Oh fuck.

Fuck fuck fuckety fuck.

“Do I wanna know?”

“Well, probably not.” Heidi said, clinging to my hand a little tighter. “When we were talking with the girls, we agreed to partner up.”

“Mhm..”

This was gonna get bad. I could feel it in my bones.

“And I partnered up with Nichole.”

Well this conversation was going from bad to worse. I tried staying optimistic.

“That’s absolutely fine, babe. You can talk to whoever you like.” I soothed, more to calm myself than her.

“Are you sure, though? She’s dating Kyle.” Heidi said, as if it was some big secret that was supposed to make me mad. Good thing the Jew actually ripped that band-aid off of me himself.

I shrugged. “I don’t particularly mind.”

She stayed silent and gave me a smile.

Was that it? God, she liked giving me mini heart attacks! I didn’t give two shits who she decided to work with! Unless it was Kyle himself, then yeah, I would. But I had nothing against Nichole personally. She was nice enough. A little pushy to those who had a weak will, but still, a reasonable enough human being.

 “Are you sure, though? What if we’re going to have to work on the project and he’s with her?” She enquired curiously.

“Well it can’t be that hard to make some polite conversation now, can it?” I chuckled.

“ _You_ probably wouldn’t be able to.” Heidi admitted. “I know how much you hate him.”

“What, I wouldn’t be able to talk to him? Of course I could. I do what I want! And if I can, then so can you.” I comforted.

I wasn’t about to have my baby sabotage her project with Nichole just because Kyle felt like being a vindictive shit and destroying their work because she was a little rude to him. Kyle’s temper was like a girl who says she’s on the pill. She claims you can trust her, but you can never be too sure. Just as easily as you fuck her, she can leave you fucked.

We walked up to her front door.

“So you aren’t mad?” Heidi asked timidly.

“Not at all, honey. Why on earth would I be?”

She gave me a sweet kiss on the lips. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you Eric!” She positively jumped in the air with joy.

“Honey, you’re acting a little strange. I didn’t do anything. Why are you thanking me?” I questioned, perplexed.

She never was the type of person to be over the top, so this sudden change in attitude came as a bit of a surprise. She simpered skittishly at me, kissing me again.

“Because I agreed to us going on a double study date with them tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about this chapter, it's just a filler. It's a bit lacklustre, not much went on, but I needed a seamless transition to get things going. I promise, things will pick up in the next one. Please don't hate me.
> 
> And thank you all for the wonderful feedback you gave out last time!


	7. Every rose has its thorn

Heidi rushed inside without a second warning, before I could rebuke her for doing this shit me. It’s amazing how quickly she was able to fuck things up. The _genius_ idea for a double study date must’ve come sometime during break, conveniently when I couldn’t personally interfere with it.

But really, the whole prospect of double dates was really fucking stupid to me. It was nearly always the chick’s idea to hang out with her best friend forever of like, two weeks at most, and drag along their poor, unsuspecting boyfriends too. They would just chit chat about some idiotic girl shit, whilst the victims of this whole affair would have to make really fucking awkward small talk. And of course, you could not forget the pictures for Coonstagram, with all four of the members in some inconvenient pose.

Except that this would be happening with Kyle. I really don’t know what the chicks were expecting to happen. Best case scenario, either me or Kyle would storm off– worst case... I didn’t even want to think about the infinite possibilities it could end.

I tried knocking at Heidi’s door, but, what a shock, she didn’t open it up for me. A little pissed off, I guessed I would just have to make up some excuse when the time arose as to why I had to bail on them.

I made my way to City Wok to see Kenny already there, waiting for me.

“Oh. You’re actually here, fatass.” Kenny remarked, grinning and putting away his wallet.

“Well duh, Kinny. I need to ask you for a favour.” I said, handing ten bucks over to Lu Kim and walking in.

Kenny followed after me. “What is it, dude?”

“Heidi decided that she wanted to fucking shove my balls in a blender.”

“Kinky.”

I rolled my eyes. That’s Kenny for you.

“And she wants me to go on a date with her and Nichole...” I took a deep breath before saying the last name, but Kenny spoke before I could finish.

“Two girls?” Kenny wolf-whistled at me, taking off his parka and shoes. “Dayumn, you’re _that_ popular after the fight?”

“Well, two girls and... Kyle.” I said, cringing at even the thought of his name. I took off my shoes.

Whatever Kenny was about to reply was drowned out by Lu Kim shouting. “Stop talking and get lazy asses over here! Hundred and fifty push-ups! Go! Go! Go!”

Back to my favourite hell. Lu Kim didn’t even notice the fading bruises on my face, and if he did, he didn’t acknowledge them. I was hoping for a lighter class to ease me back into routine after being in the hospital, but Kim was having none of that. The amount of effort we had to put in increased tenfold since our first lesson, and it seemed that this class was particularly difficult, as even Kenny was wheezing, out of breath.

“Can.. we.. rest?” I implored, gasping in between every word.

“No! You no get no rest. You go out and fight and then come back to _my_ studio with bruises? It means I no work you hard enough. ” Kim barked, his inner Chinese coming out.

Okay. Maybe he did notice the bruises then. Fuck. Neither I nor Kenny spoke a word, contrary to what we would usually do, as we were both concentrating on not fucking dying as Kim dictated orders.

If you saw us walking out of there, you would’ve thought we went swimming with our clothes on. After a while of walking in silence, focusing on our breathing, Kenny looked at me.

“So, what’s the favour you were asking me for?”

“I really don’t want to go on that date thing. Help me find a way to get out of it.” I pleaded.

Yes, you read that right.

Pleaded.

I was _that_ desperate.

Kenny scratched his chin in a fake ‘I’m thinking’ manner. “Okay, I’ve got some ideas. Tell her we’re having a guys’ night. Or fake being sick. Or let me punch you in the face and get you sent to the hospital again.”

“Yeah, she’s not going to listen to the first one, you know how girls are. It would just end with her throwing a huge tantrum. Faking being sick isn’t actually too bad of an idea, unless she decides to come over and investigate, then I’m fucked. As for your third idea, you can go fuck yourself. That’s just a thinly veiled excuse to punch me and get brownie points to pick up chicks.”

“God damnn it.” Kenny huffed, annoyed that I figured him out. “Think about it, though. It would be a win-win situation for the both of us. She wouldn’t be able to physically be able to drag you out, and I would get some well-earned respect. It was my idea to drag your ass over here in the first place!”

“So what? Without me, you wouldn’t be able to afford coming here.” I countered. Kenny was not going to guilt trip me.

“Touché. Do you think you’re going to be able to come tomorrow, or am I going to have to sweat my ass off alone?”

An idea struck me. “Turns out you’re useful, after all, Kinny! If I can’t skip the date, then it’ll be the perfect excuse to cut the meeting short.” I cheered and patted him on the back.

“No problem. It sucks ass to work out without hearing you curse every other instruction Kim gives out to us.”

We walked on. Something churned in my gut and I had to get an answer to ease my mind. But subtly, so that Kenny wouldn’t inquire any further.

“Did you, by any chance, give out my hospital room number to anyone?” I asked innocently, the same way I would ask for someone’s favourite TV show or mom to give me a couple bucks.

“Why?”

Fuck.

“No reason.”

“Cartman.” Kenny reprimanded warningly. “Why are you asking?”

“Just ‘cause.”

Kenny folded his arms over his chest.

“Just, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” I said, looking at the empty street.

“You sound like a salty chick when she’s mad. Next thing you’re going to say is ‘I’m fine. Really.’ So cut the bullcrap, you don’t do anything without an ulterior motive.”

Ugh. Fuck Kenny.

“Love you too.” He replied out loud to my inner thought.

“Well, it’s just that Kyle visited me when I was there, so I assumed you told him. And then he wouldn’t fuck off.”

“Nope, didn’t even talk to him that day.” Kenny admitted. “But why are you trying to avoid him at every cost?”

“Because I fucking hate him. You don’t understand, Ken. I still have nightmares about my stuff being smashed back in the woods. I lost _everything_ because of him.”

Kenny scrunched up his nose. “Didn’t Token buy some brand new replacements for you after the incident was cleared up? Also, I’m pretty sure Kyle felt bad afterwards, They all did.”

“Oh really?” I put my hands on my hips, insulted. “Then how come he was the only one that wouldn’t get his head out of his ass and apologise? Everyone else did. Apart from Craig, but he’s an asshole so he doesn’t count.”

“Maybe it’s because you’ve done worse shit to eachother in the past without even thinking about making amends?” Kenny suggested. “I know you’re petty, but not to this extent. You usually take revenge after people actually do something to genuinely piss you off, not because they didn’t apologise. Now, I’m no councillor, and I’m not going to pry into your personal business–”

“Good. Because you shouldn’t.” I tried to stop him from continuing.

“–But it seems to me that those nightmares are just an excuse. A way for your fucked up psyche to hide a deeper trauma. But that’s just my opinion; I could be wrong.”

“Good thing you’re no councillor, because you’re literally spewing shit out of your mouth. For the record, my psyche is not fucked up. And you’re definitely wrong.” I retorted angrily.

“Whatever you say, Cartman. Whatever you say.” Kenny sighed, then crossed the street, heading back to his place. Was it just me, or did he seem in more of a hurry? I couldn’t have pissed him off that bad. It had to be some other factor.

It was hard to fall asleep after that, and I woke up feeling like shit the next morning. Full of hope, I placed my hand on my forehead, but no such luck, it was still as lukewarm as ever. Not even a trace of fever. Damn it! Seriously, there were so many people that got flu’s and cold’s for weeks on end but my body couldn’t even warm up by one bloody degree!

I got out of bed and went around doing my business.

Right as I was finish going through my morning routine, I heard a knock on the front door.

It was Heidi.

“Hi honey!” She kissed my cheek and waltzed in. “I was just checking in case you tried to pretend you were sick.”

“Babe, do you really have that little faith in me?” I asked as I grabbed my backpack.

“No, not at all. Well, maybe just a little bit. You’re not too mad, though?” She confided, clasping her hands together shyly. I took one of hers into mine and we walked out of the house.

“Heidi, I’m absolutely fucking furious about the situation.” I said gravely, looking at her. She shrank down a little. “You’re so fucking lucky you’re my girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry, Eric.” She rested her head against my arm. We carried on walking like that for a couple minutes before she pulled me back a little, and reached up to wrap her arms around my shoulders. I leaned down until our noses bumped together.

“I’m really, really sorry.” She purred, giving me a sultry look. “Is there any way I could make it up to you afterwards?”

Not this shit again.

“I can think of a few, but not today, honey. Me and Kenny have got to meet up at eight.” I deflected, giving her a quick kiss and pulling myself back. “I’m guessing our date will be over by then.”

“Oh, okay.” She proclaimed, not hiding the disappointment in her voice. “What are you guys going to be doing together?”

“You know, just guy stuff.”

School passed by in a flash, and before I knew it, I was back at home, changing into ‘casual attire’. What the fuck did Heidi mean when she texted me that? They were the exact fucking opposite of eachother! I was sure attire meant some kind of fancy suit, and casual was some slightly creased jeans and a hoodie that didn’t smell too bad yet.

Fucking girls, man. ‘Casual attire’. After standing in my closet for way too long, trying to decipher her mystic code, I decided to just give up and message her.

**E.C: Bby. IDK what to wear.**

**H.T: Same here, babe.**

For fuck’s sake! Really?

**H.T: I have an idea. Put on your red flannel, black jeans and some red converse shoes. Come over to pick me up once you’re ready.**

I did as I was asked. Before heading out, I grabbed some extra money from mom’s purse to buy Heidi a present on the way, along with some more, just in case. Seeming as her theme was red, I stopped at the local supermarket to grab her a red box of chocolates. But upon stepping inside, I saw there was a section dedicated to flowers, and in the midst of it, a huge bouquet of red roses in full bloom. Okay, that would be really fucking romantic. Instantly, I dropped the chocolates and ran to get the flowers instead. Despite it costing three times as much, I decided to buy them anyway.

Then I had a thought. Should I get Nichole something too? As I said before, I had no fucking idea about how a double date operated. It would be really fucking awkward if I didn’t get her something, would it? Or would Heidi get mad at me for paying too much attention to Nichole if I did? Ah, fuck it– better safe than sorry. I grabbed a significantly smaller bouquet of yellow tulips too.

I walked out of the store feeling pretty accomplished. At least I wouldn’t get the typical ‘Chocolates? Don’t you see how fat I am already?’ complaint. I swear to fuck, the girl could be a walking skeleton and say the exact same thing. If they really thought they were, they could’ve at least offered one back to the guy. But that never, in the history of fucking ever, happened.

However, if you didn’t get them anything fancy enough to make up for the chocolates then they’d also complain- ‘No chocolates? Do you think I’m fat?’. Like, seriously. Why the fuck did they have to be so confusing? You do one thing, they’re mad, you do the opposite, they’re mad too. No homo, but good for Tweek and Craig. At least as a gay couple, they didn’t have to deal with that kind of bullshit.

I rapped my knuckles on Heidi’s front door, holding the flowers behind my back.

The door opened .

As soon as it did, I held the bouquet of roses out, stepping forward a little. If I went through the whole ordeal of getting her flowers, then I wanted a ‘thank you’ kiss in return. Or a warm embrace, at least.

“Hey babe. Look what I’ve got for you.” I proclaimed, holding the roses up to her.

“For me, Eric? You shouldn’t have!”

Huh?

Kyle was leaning against the doorway, hand  on his chest in a fake amorous way, smirking.

“Oh fuck off, Kahl!” I spat, barging past him, my cheeks flaming red with embarrassment.

I’d get him back for that. Twice as hard.

“Heidi?” I called out, voice strained. “Where are you, my muffin?”

“She’s in the bathroom with Nichole. Apparently, her eyeliner went all wrong so now she’s freaking out about having to do the whole thing again. And because Nichole saw her putting some on, she decided that she wanted to revamp hers as well. So now they’re both stuck in there.” Kyle explained, standing behind me. “I tried getting them out –it’s impossible. Make yourself comfortable, we’re going to be here a while.”

“Don’t tell me to make myself comfortable! This is _my_ girlfriend’s house. And I’m not letting them sit in there any longer. I want to get this thing over and done with as soon as I can.” I snapped, stamping up the staircase.

I knocked on the bathroom door.

“Heidi? Honey? You in there?” I asked.

“Give us a moment, Eric. We’ll be right out.” I heard her reply.

“Ladies, come on. Kyle’s getting pretty impatient.” I said. “And out of the four of us, he’s really the one who should be putting on make-up in the first place.”

I heard Nichole giggle, and Heidi join in with her.

I also may have heard Kyle shouting, “Says you, asshole!” but that was irrelevant.

“Just one more minute, honey and we’re done.” Heidi called out.

“Fine. I’m setting a timer for sixty seconds, and if you’re not out of there by the time it’s finished, I’m throwing your gift in the trash.” I mildly threatened.

“Gift?” She repeated incredulously, the chatter behind the bathroom door going silent.

It didn’t even take half a second before Heidi popped her head out the door like a meerkat. She took one glance at the huge bouquet and the door flung open; she flew into my arms.

“Careful, honey. Every rose has its thorn.” I warned, holding one of my arms to the side and hugging her with the other. “Now that I’ve caught you, my little sugar-mouse, I’m going to block your entrance to the bathroom. You already look stunning to me.” I gave her the roses.

“Aw, relationship goals!” Nichole cooed sweetly, hands clasped together. “You even match outfits!”

Heidi was wearing a black off-the-shoulders top with a red flannel skirt and matching converse.

“We do?” Heidi beamed, looking at my outfit. She burst into peals of giggles, “Wow, we actually do!”

“Hey Nichole. You’re looking equally lovely.” I complimented, holding out the tulips to her.

She took them and rushed towards me, giving me a quick hug. “How’d you know tulips are my favourite?”

“I honestly didn’t. But when I stepped in the shop and I saw their dazzling beauty, I couldn’t help but to think of you. Now, come on. There’s one moody grouch waiting downstairs for us.”

Both girls tittered, and obligingly followed me down, clutching their flowers like prized possessions.

“You said you tried getting them out?” I said to Kyle, who was busy staring at his phone. “Well, you must’ve not tried hard enough.”

He looked up.

“Kyle! Look at the pretty flowers Eric gave me!” Nichole boasted cheerily.

“Mm, very nice.” Kyle responded by smiling at her, giving me a quick glare.

One up for me, stupid Jew. Time to pour a little salt into his wounded pride.

“I’m really glad you like them, Nichole. But I bet they’re nowhere near as impressive as what Kyle got you.”

“Are you joking? They’re so pretty, you must’ve spent a fortune! You didn’t even need to get me anything in the first place. I feel so awkward accepting them, Kyle just got me some chocolates.”

Nichole and Heidi exchanged a confidential glance of subtle disdain that none of us failed to miss.

Hahahaha! He fell into the ‘chocolates’ trap as well? He just didn’t understand a girl’s mentality, did he? Gullible Jew. Two up for me.

“So... are we all ready to go out now?” He asked, a slight edge to his voice.

“Yeah, just let me take a quick picture with Eric and my flowers. It’s too dark outside for the lighting to be good and I want to save it as my homescreen.” Heidi chirped.

Obediently, I placed my arm around her shoulder as we posed for the selfie. It took a couple tries, she had to reposition her phone toward the light to hide my yellowing bruises, but luckily it didn’t take too long. Meanwhile, Nichole and Kyle were taking theirs.

“Oh, now you’re just making me jealous, Heidi. You two look absolutely adorable.” Nichole simpered.

“Come and join us then!” I proposed, and she skipped over to us. The phone couldn’t capture all three of us flatteringly, and I saw the perfect opportunity to strike.

“You know what, never mind a selfie. I’ll just take a picture of you two holding your flowers instead.” I suggested innocently.

“Eric, don’t be silly! You got them for us, you have to be in the photo!” Nichole urged. “Wait, I have an idea. Kyle, darling, take a nice picture of us.”

Three up to me. Damn, I was good.

“Wow, Nichole! Why didn’t I think of that? You’re a genius!” I praised her.

“Oh, stop it!” She remarked sweetly, playfully hitting my shoulder. “You’re giving me too much credit here.”

The three of us posed, a girl on either side of me. Kyle took one picture. Salty, much? Definitely.

“Kyle, I know it’s in your nature, but you don’t need to be stingy in this aspect.” I commented, thoroughly enjoying how red his face went.

“Yeah, come on Kyle. Your phone doesn’t bite!” Heidi added helpfully, and Nichole giggled. My good girls. Though I don’t think either of them quite realised the implications behind my previous statement. But the only thing that mattered is that Kyle did.

What was it now? Four up? Hell yeah!

Begrudgingly, he did, as we did all kinds of poses.

“There, happy now?” Kyle almost barked after the twenty fifth.

“Temper, darling.”Nichole scolded gently,  “Yeah, I think we’re done. Come on, let’s get going gang, I’m getting hungry.”

Heidi put her flowers in a vase and Nichole tucked hers under her arm and we headed out.

Heidi and Nichole walked together on the pavement, with us at the sides. I didn’t know about Kyle, but I listened attentively to their conversation, complimenting them both and sprinkling around jokes that made them laugh. And no, they weren’t offensive ones.

I glanced at Kyle after a particularly hilarious joke. He was smiling, but he wasn’t– if that makes any sense at all. His lips curled upward as if by force. Despite it being dark outside making me not exactly sure of what I saw, I could feel it’s fakeness. I hardly remembered when was the last time he actually smiled at me, but I knew, if he ever did again (which I seriously fucking doubted he would) I would recognise it from a thousand others.

Okay, that was a weird thought. I decided to go back to concentrating on the girls.

 It was ages ago, back in fourth grade. We were sat, playing videogames at my place. That was fun. And he just smiled at me. I remember the feeling of him looking at me, and I gave him a quick glance. Oh fuck! He caught me staring at him! I went back to focusing on the game, but I couldn’t help resist the temptation. After a second, I looked back at him, and he smiled at me. Although a smile is most notorious for its lip movement, it was his eyes that I remembered. They were radiant, and their green glow smashed through all the bad moments between us... For that split second everything stopped, and we just sat there like little idiots, letting our characters get killed off as we just smiled at each other.

God, that sounded so fucking _gay_ now that I thought of it.

“Eric?” Heidi bleated, thankfully putting an end to my fucked-up reverie.

“Sorry honey, I got a little lost in thought. What were you asking?”

“Oh babe, I wasn’t asking you anything. We’re here already, and you seemed to have gotten stuck in place.”

And so we arrived at our destination: City Wok. As the girls were doing an Asian themed project, it only made sense to eat at the only Asian restaurant in town. We sat down at a booth, Heidi and I on one end, Kyle and Nichole on the other and ordered our respective food. Luckily for me, it turned out that the girls sat diagonally from eachother, meaning that if Kyle tried to kick me under the table, he’d have to work damn hard to make it seem by accident.

“Trust you to order nearly the whole damn menu, Cartman.” grumbled Kyle. I bet he was pissed off that he couldn’t call me ‘fatass’ in front of the girls without seeming like a huge jerk.

“And why do you care?” I retaliated, “I do what I want! It’s not like you’re going to be paying for it.”

“I’m not? What makes you think that?” Kyle responded.

“I need to fulfil my gentlemanly duties, and that means that I pay for everyone. At least I’m not pressuring the ladies in our presence to eat miniscule amounts of food just because I want to save a buck or two.” I sneered at him.

“I’m not pressuring anyone to do anything!” Kyle fumed, desperately trying to cling on to the last bits left of his patience with me.

“Then why are you food shaming us?” I asked, offended. To give credit where it was due, I had to thank Wendy for that argument. “Ladies, if you don’t mind me involving you, how many times did you order a salad when you went out on a date with a guy? And while he was noshing down on something delectable at the fancy restaurant he’d taken you to, and you were stuck eating lettuce, like some kind of rabbit?”

Kyle looked one wrong move away from wringing my neck. “This is a Chinese restaurant, dumba–Cartman! There are no salads here!”

“Exactly my point.” I replied collectedly.

Was I the only one seeing the steam billowing out of Kyle’s ears?

“I was never pressured by you, babe.” Heidi piped in. “You always took me out for something cool, like milkshakes at McDonald.”

“What about you, Nichole?” I asked.

She paused. “Well, it did happen a couple times before with other boys, I guess. And I did just order some veggie spring rolls, though I’m not exactly sure why. I don’t even like them that much.”

“It’s fine Nichole, my bright sunshine. We can share my stuff. I’ll give you half of everything; I’m not going to have you eating some vegetable rolls just because Kahl is forcing you to do so.”

Oh my god, his face at that moment was fucking glorious. I had him in check-mate. If he said anything out against me, the girls would intervene and he would be outnumbered. It was priceless knowing that I had his girlfriend in the palm of my hand and was brazenly abusing that power. Well, I had both of them since essentially the beginning.

“What about me?” Heidi pouted childishly.

“Honey, you’re behaving like you didn’t already know half of everything I ordered was going to you. And as Kahl said, I ordered ‘nearly the whole damn menu’. There’ll be plenty for you and Nichole to share.”

“Wait, if half is going to me, and the other half to Heidi, what are you going to eat?” Nichole enquired.

“I’ll have the veggie spring rolls.” I said.

See, manipulation is an art that only the best can master. Kyle thought I deliberately ordered everything just to piss him off, however, the girls thought I ordered so much because I was selfless and kind, when in reality, both were wrong. Well, maybe Kyle was a little more right than Heidi and Nichole were, but still. The reason why was because I didn’t really feel like eating that much at all. That sounded crazy, and it was, because I would’ve loved to scoff down everything they had to offer. Thing was, I couldn’t. I had training with Kenny right after this date, and let me tell you, it’s a pain in the ass trying to work out when you’re full. So I used the opportunity to my advantage, and benefitted greatly. Next step was to make Kyle pay for it, and regret it at the same time.

Our order arrived. Everyone feasted luxuriously, and by everyone I mean Heidi and Nichole, trying bits of everything. Kyle was a bitch about it at first, but eventually after Nichole spoon-fed him a couple different dishes, he joined in. I observed everyone happily, but when Heidi tried to give me some of the chow mein she enjoyed, I refused. The key to being a good manipulator is being consistent. I told them I would have the spring rolls, and I only had the spring rolls, despite the glorious, glorious temptation around me.

“Eric, sugar, please, at least try some of the duck!” Nichole begged, leaning over the table and holding the fork up to my lips.

“Alas, my sunshine Nichole, the answer is no. But you enjoy yourself, alright?”

What they did manage to convince me to have, was a fortune cookie. Because who could say no to a fortune cookie?

I opened mine, grabbing the note from inside. The lights dimmed down, and I heard the faint whistling of trees in the wind outside. A sense of mystery and deeper meaning washed over me like a cleansing bath as I read the mystical message.

_He who throws mud loses ground._

Fucking Chinese bullshit. Like, what was that supposed to mean? It wasn’t even a good fortune! The world was pretty fucking full of ground to me.

I glanced over at the others, who were desperately trying to make sense of theirs.

I watched Kyle for a moment. I saw his eyes flitting back and forth over the fortune, re-reading it again and again. He put it in his pocket after, not smiling, but not frowning either. I wondered what was written on that message of his.

“Eric, I don’t like my mine!” Heidi said moodily, holding hers up to me. “There’s nothing written on it about our future happy home and two little kiddies!”

Happy home and _what now_?

I kissed her on the forehead a little worriedly. Perhaps she was the one with a fever, because she sure was having some high-temperature delusions.

_You don’t need strength to let go of something. What you really need is understanding._

Another stupid message. This one though, I could actually make sense of.

“Maybe, honey, if there’s any friends that are toxic to you, you need to forgive them and let go.” I suggested.

“Oh! It makes so much sense now!” Heidi gasped. “I don’t know about you, Nichole, but I think Bebe’s been acting really horribly lately.”

“Oh my god, same!” Nichole replied, and that started them off on a tangent about how unapologetic Bebe was about wearing some trashy shoes or something.

I checked my phone. It was getting disturbingly close to eight. I gave Kenny a quick text, asking him at what time we should meet.

**K.M: Srry, can’t cum 2day. Karen’s been feeling under the weather & now she’s sick.**

**E.C: IDC, I’m still using you as an excuse to get out of this shitfest.**

**K.M: K. U go do** **that.**

Did that mean that I just refused to gorge myself on Chinese cuisine for absolutely no fucking reason? Oh my fucking God, Kenny! You broke ass asshole didn’t even fucking think about texting me before!

The bill came, and Kyle snatched it up first, giving me a glare of superiority and mightiness. Of course, paying for someone else in such a tight-ass culture of Jews was technically the most powerful thing you could do.

“No tip?” I asked.

Kyle was obviously so done with my bullshit. He grabbed one fucking hundred dollars out of his wallet and slammed it on the table.

“There. Good enough for you, Cartman?” He asked sarcastically, left eye twitching slightly with utter fury.

“Damn, Kahl. Are you sure you’re not dating Lu Kim instead? Buying your girlfriend some cheap ass chocolates and spending over a hundred on a tip seems pretty sketchy to me. Nichole, you might wanna watch him closely, sunshine. He seems to like the spicy Asian type. Just saying.”

If only looks could kill.

I wouldn’t just be dead. I would be so, so much worse. He looked like he wanted to rip every ounce of meat from my body using a plastic spoon, then shred that meat into minuscule pieces and shove it inside my skeleton, but not before shattering every single bone first.

I might’ve gotten him just a _little_ mad.

“Just, forget it!” Kyle snapped. At least he obeyed the common rule of courtesy and didn’t try and snatch the money back, like I expected a typical Jew to do.

Only on the walk back did the girls actually start thinking about planning out their project. They chattered mostly about some random stuff, with the actual purpose of the meeting only coming up once in a while. I hoped to fuck that they wouldn’t want to go on a second date, because fuck me if I was going to go around and parade around like the perfect boyfriend again.

Nichole’s house was first on the way back.

She pulled Heidi into a hug, and the two of them did that weird girl thing where they each lifted up one leg like they were fucking flamingos.

“Bye Heidi! I told you a double study date was an excellent idea. We should do it again sometime.” Nichole bubbled.

“Yeah! We should!” Heidi chorused back. “It would be awesome! And we could invite Wendy and Stan too!”

No fucking way in hell. We would not go on another date with Nichole and Kyle, study or not. And we sure as shit would not invite Wendy and Stan. All my leverage on the battlefield would be gone! Wendy would just disagree with me no matter what I said, and Stan would actually back Kyle up, because they’re super best fucking friends. And how was I supposed to get the Jew angry if everyone was on his side?

I squeezed Heidi’s hand tighter, warningly. She would _not_ put me through that shit again if she wanted me to stay her boyfriend.

“Mmm, we’ll have to think about it, right Eric?” Heidi turned to me.

I smiled at her. “Yeah. We’ll see when we’re all free and then figure something out.” I faced Nichole. “But I must say, this night was pretty damn great, all thanks to you, sunshine.”

A little red blossomed on her dark cheeks. “Oh, please, sugar. You made me enjoy myself more than on any other date before.”

Nichole then rushed over and gave me a hug, then kissed me on both cheeks. “You really changed for the better, Eric. You’re like Mr Perfect now! Thank you so much for everything!”

“My pleasure, Nichole.” I responded.

“Heidi, you better keep him by your side at all times, or I’m going to steal him away from you.” Nichole joked.

She turned to Kyle and kissed him on the cheek. “See you tomorrow at school, darling.”

Then she went up her driveway, waved us goodbye, and went inside.

Heidi lived only one street down, so it wasn’t long before she was back at home. Strangely, she stayed quiet throughout, but I guessed it was getting a bit late and she might’ve just been tired.

“Goodnight, babe.” I called out as she walked indoors.

It was just me and Kyle now.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” He commanded more than asked.

“Sure, Kahl. What is this about?” I replied softly.

“Can I talk to you over here?” Kyle requested, pointing in the direction of a nearby grove.

“Well of course.”

We walked there in silence, until we were in the midst of the trees and out of immediate sight.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ABOUT?!”

“I have no idea what you mean.” I answered gently.

“Yes you do, you anti-Semitic, manipulative son of a bitch!” Kyle ranted, utter acrimony taking over his features.

“Kahl, it’s late out. Try and be a little quieter.”

Apparently, being quiet in Jewish meant to scream even louder at me.

“I fucking hate you!”

He took a swing at me.

“Kahl. Kahl, calm yourself down. Take some deep breaths, and we can talk.”

“NO!”

Kyle tried to hit me again.

I dodged once more, taking a step back.

“Why are you mad at me, Kahl? Shouldn’t you be happy that the girls had a great time?” I tried reasoning.

After all of that acting like Mr Perfect, I was really starting to get exhausted with being reasonable. Kyle definitely wasn’t helping the matter at hand.

“Yeah, but it was at my cost! You made _me_ out to be the shitty boyfriend!” Kyle raged.

My patience snapped.

“Oh really? It must’ve been so fucking awful! You spent one whole fucking evening being the bad guy! I feel _so_ sorry for you.” I scoffed.

“I don’t need your fake, manipulative pity, you asshole!”

“I was being sarcastic!” I snapped back. “You needed to be knocked down a couple pegs!”

“Fuck you!” Kyle responded, throwing a punch.

I thought about not eluding it, so that he hit me and I had a reason to fight him, but that would make the girls mad at me. Besides, as much as I hate to say it, I didn’t want to physically harm Kyle back. No homo, though.

“You knew about the whole date thing before I did! You could’ve tried to cancel it!” I stormed.

“It was my fucking idea! I hoped that if we were surrounded by others, we could actually converse like normal fucking people!” Kyle shouted. “I knew you were going to pull a few asshole-y comments, so I told Nichole to just agree with you in case you did happen to be a dick to me. Which you were! For the entire fucking evening!”

“Well it’s your fault for thinking of such a shitty idea in the first place!” I objected. “Why can’t you understand that I don’t want anything to do with you?”

Kyle went quiet.

“Am I seriously not giving you enough hints? I don’t want you anywhere near me! I don’t need you as a friend, or as an enemy. I don’t fucking need you at all!” I yelled. “But you just won’t go away! You’re like a fucking thorn stuck in my ass that I can’t get out!”

“Fine! I’ll fuck off and never speak to you again if you answer my question.” Kyle barked.

“Will you really?”

“I fucking swear by the moon and the stars. You won’t have to hear, see, or think my name ever again!”

“What’s the question, then?” I asked, taking deep breaths, desperately trying to calm myself.

This was my chance. My golden ticket to make him permanently go away. Out of my life.

“ _Why_?”

I took one good look at him and then stormed back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry. This chapter took longer than expected, but I hope it didn't disappoint.
> 
> Let me tell you, I had to rewrite the thing with Kyle nearly seven times, because he's such a damn hard character to write. Hopefully I didn't go to OOC. 
> 
> Please, gimme some feedback! What did you think?


	8. Cold cold cold

‘Why?’

The fucking Jew always asked the stupidest questions. What did he mean, ‘Why?’. Why did I hate him and avoided him like the plague? Probably he did have some sort of infectious disease and he was a no-good dirty Jew, that’s why. He always claimed to be the smartest in anything and everything, but he sure was acting thick as a brick in this aspect. What more did he want from me?

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much at night. Fucking Jew, making me sit and fucking ponder his stupid fucking question.

I couldn’t think of a response to it.

The next morning was crap. Even after downing two mugs of coffee I still possessed that slightly-on-the-verge-of-falling-asleep vibe. But Kyle said he wouldn’t quit trying unless I told him why. And I still didn’t know. Whatever. I’d just have to avoid him.

Everything started off just fine and dandy.

Ha!

As if.

I knocked on Heidi’s front door and saw a frown on her face when she opened. It was definitely an oddity coming from a person as smiley and happy as her.

“Hey baby, what’s wrong?” I asked, trying to make her feel better by smiling.

She looked down at the floor.

“Eric,” She took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

That was the moment when I knew I fucked up, somehow. My heart started racing a thousand miles a minute and my breath hitched when I tried to speak.

“What.. What is it honey?”

She checked her phone. “You’re here early. We still have a good couple minutes, come in. We’ll talk inside.”

Obediently, I followed her inside, heart beating in my throat. Heidi gestured for me to take off my coat and shoes, which I did hesitantly. She sat on the couch, and patted the seat beside her. What the fuck was with that silence of hers? It was starting to freak me out. I held out my hand to her, and graciously, she took it in hers. I didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not.

“Eric, I’m not sure what to say.” She started.

“God, Heidi, just get this over and done with. I don’t have time for this.” I sighed, resting my forehead against my other hand.

I was waiting for it. The infamous ‘We need a break’. After that, the ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ And like the most bittersweet cherry to top it all off, the final, and most stupid break up cliché, the ‘We can still be friends.’.

“Well, it’s just that...” Heidi trailed off.

“It’s just what?” I hurried her up. If she was going to break up, then she could at least not waste my time. “Quit the bullshitting, Heidi, I don’t need that part. I have places to be.”

She started tearing up.

Worst thing was, I didn’t know whether to comfort her, laugh at her, or cry with her.

“It’s.. It’s just that I don’t think you love me.” She sniffled.

It seemed that neither of the three options above were appropriate.

“Woman, what the hell do you mean, I don’t love you?” I snapped. “Just yesterday, I got you a huge goddamn bouquet of red roses, for fuck’s sake.”

“But that’s not all there is about love!” Heidi protested, tears streaming down her face. “There’s more to it than that!”

She was _still_ not satisfied? Did she need diamond jewellery to make her understand my fucking affection for her?

“You’re right. I also acted like the sweetest fucking boyfriend ever in front of your friend, if you care to remember? I was Mr Fucking Perfect, and didn’t cause a single fucking scene in front of you and her.” I reminded her harshly.

“Oh, but Eric!” She cried. “I didn’t want you to ‘act’ perfect! I wanted you to just be yourself! To be how you usually would!”

I scoffed. “If I was being myself, I wouldn’t even fucking show up in the first place.” Like a switch in my head, the question popped up, and I knew I would burst if I didn’t get an answer from her. “Now, tell me something. Was it Kyle’s idea? And did you know?”

She wiped at her face, fruitlessly trying to stop the waterworks. She was wasting my time.

“It’s a yes or no question, Heidi!” I barked furiously.

“Yes... Yes I knew! Me and Nichole partnered up, but he thought of the idea after we did, when we were together at recess! I couldn’t find you anywhere, so I just agreed. You know how pushy Nichole can be, especially when he’s with her.” She lamented emotionally.

I pulled my hand away from hers.

“I just can’t fucking believe you.” I growled. “You _knew_! And you didn’t think of telling me that before?”

“Eric, he knew you’d say no! He told me privately that he wanted to speak with you, but you wouldn’t let him.” Heidi blubbered. “But you’re changing the subject!”

 He taught her his dirty Jew tricks. Instead of apologising for her wrongdoings, she was accusing me of changing subject.

She was tainted meat.

And she deserved no mercy.

“Oh am I now?” I ranted, waving my arms about violently. “So what’s your complaint? Come on, _babe_ , what did I do wrong? Did I lie to your face? Did I cheat on you? Did I fucking go behind your back and conspire against you with the person I know you despise more than anyone else in the universe? Because if I did, then please fucking tell me!”

She broke down, bawling her eyes out.

“I’m the one supposed to be mad at you!” she sobbed.

“Well what fucking reason do you have for that? I’m listening!” I fumed.

“You don’t want to touch me! You keep making up all of these excuses of yours, and I just don’t understand why!” She wailed, pausing in between each word to gasp for breath.

“Do you want to know why?” I seethed. “Do you really, honestly, want to know?”

“Yes! Please..” She wept.

“Fine. But you better not cry about it.” I hissed, pulling up her chin to have eye contact. I had to make sure she understood. “Just the thought of you naked makes any chance of having a boner disappear. You’re ugly, and now I know that that’s true both inside and out.”

Without a word, I grabbed my stuff, put my coat and shoes on, then turned to look at her.

She was lying curled up sideways on the couch, her tears pooling around her face; leaving a glorious puddle on the cushion. A small, miniscule part of me found that incredibly irresistible. And that small, miniscule part of me wanted to go up there and kiss her cheeks. Just to taste her helplessness, her anguish and sorrow.

But, for the most part, I was still pissed off.

“Heidi, I need some space.”

Which basically translated into: ‘We’re breaking up, cunt.’

She let out a tiny, broken-hearted gasp, but other than that, stayed silent. The only reason I knew she didn’t die of shock right there and then was because of her constant stream of tears expanding at a faster rate than before.

I was too mad to think about anything else on the way to skewl. Despite being wrapped up in a ton of layers, I felt freezing inside. Just, cold.

Cold cold cold.

Worst thing was, I couldn’t even blame _him_ for our break up, as it was Heidi’s, and only Heidi’s fault. I guessed some people just never appreciated what they had until they lost it. And Heidi just lost me. It was all too much for me to handle. She was unstable. And I was her victim whom she decided to punish.

Because I was the victim. Right?

Kenny must’ve noticed something was off in homeroom. He poked me, and I looked up at him, awoken from my stupor.

“Hey, what’s up?” He whispered.

Our homeroom teacher was in a particularly shitty mood that day. So he wanted peace and quiet, which we all gave him, because no-one wanted to end up with detention.

“What? Nothing.” I replied.

“You’ve been staring at your desk for a good four minutes straight. I’m guessing it’s because of your double date.” Kenny insisted. “How bad was it?”

“Pretty fucking awful.”

“Mhm.” Kenny nodded. “But, like on a scale of one to ten?”

“How’s your sister?” I deflected.

“On a scale of one to ten, fatass.” Kenny commanded. “I know you don’t give two shits about Karen, and if you don’t get this whole thing,” he waved his hand at me in a circle, “Out of your system, then you’ll end up doing something you regret.”

 “Like, a solid –we had a fight this morning and broke up- out of ten.” I groaned.

Kenny smacked his palm into his face with pretty admirable force. “Guess I’m late to the party. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” I whined.

“So she broke up with you for no reason at all?” Kenny inquired.

“Au contraire, Kinny, I broke up with her.”

 “You did what?” Kenny looked gobsmacked. Which, I guess, he literally was. “Why?”

“I can’t trust her anymore.” I sighed. “All this time, she’s been working with _him_. The whole date thing, she knew it was _his_ idea. But she didn’t tell me.”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Kenny shook his head dismally.

“I know, right? She fucking betrayed me!” I retorted.

“You’re retarded. Really fucking retarded.” Kenny stated, obviously fed up. “It’s like you’re deliberately choosing to be oblivious to the whole thing with Kyle. Whilst throwing away the one good thing you had in your life. Where is she?”

“Well fuck me if I know.” I responded, agitated by his differing opinion to mine. And because he called me retarded. “Probably still at home, crying.”

“You have to apologise to her! Get your fat ass on your fucking knees and beg for her forgiveness.” Kenny ordered.

“Oh hell naw. I ain’t apologising, Kinny. I’m not some pussy whipped bitch.” I protested.

Kenny stared at me for a long moment. He then exhaled loudly.

“So, so, so damn retarded.” He muttered, turning his head away from me.

Well, I guessed that was the end of our conversation. I resumed peering at the desk.

I was happy. After six years of constant bullshit, I was finally free. To do whatever, whoever, whenever I pleased. And that made me smile.

I didn’t even mind chemistry, because I knew me and Heidi had none! Ha! It felt so good to be rid of her. I walked into the classroom with a bright grin. Upon entering, I saw Bebe consciously trying to look effortlessly happy while standing alone in the corner. Using my analytical skills, I presumed it was because of her shoes. They were obnoxiously bright red ankle boots with a bow on each one. Despite Heidi and Nichole shitting on them, I didn’t find them all that displeasing to look at. I mean, they were red, which was always kewl.

I went up to her.

“Nice shoes, Bebe.” I said.

“Fuck off, Cartman!” Bebe responded, folding her arms over her chest. I didn’t blame her for thinking I was being sarcastic.

“No, I’m seriously, Bebe. You don’t need to listen to the girls’ catty comments. You look great.”

She looked at me as if I just swallowed a gremlin. “Uh, thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.”

I gave her a quick smile, to which she responded with a slightly creeped-out one of her own.

Happily, I sat down at my desk. It didn’t even ruin my mood that was about to waste an hour in chemistry; a class I couldn’t understand for shit.

Until something crazy happened.

To my complete and utter fucking shock, Bebe came and sat down next to me.

“Bebe, isn’t your seat over there?” I asked out of curiosity, pointing to her seat at the front next to Millie Larsen.

She made a disgruntled noise, and slowly started to stand up.

“I mean, it’s fine if you want to sit here. I don’t mind.” 

“Are you sure?”

“My previous statement is still valid.” I said.

“Thank you.” She replied, relief washing over her features and sitting back down.

From six years of dating a girl and analysing her behaviour after a fight, I had a basic gist of what Bebe wanted. “So, do you want to tell me about what happened with you guys?”

“Oh, nothing.” She sighed. “We’re fine.”

Different girl, same bullshit.

“Okay Bebe. If you insist. But just know that if you want to talk, I’m here.” I gestured to myself before opening my chemistry textbook and pretending like I was actually absorbing any of the information in there.

It didn’t even take two full minutes before she cracked.

She started explaining the whole thing, in great detail. I let her go on, mostly uninterrupted, only making a comment or two here and there so that she had the feeling I was listening. I mean, listening to her whine was better than whatever this bullshit class was supposed to teach us.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You’re probably going to find a way to twist my words against me.” Bebe remarked sceptically.

“And what would I gain from doing that?”

“I don’t know. Everyone always says you’re evil like that.” She said.

“And everyone says you’re behaving horribly for actually being yourself. But I believe you when you say you’re not.” I replied truthfully.

I got her there.

Astonished, she smiled.

“You’ve changed.” Bebe marvelled.

“Okay? But what did I ever do to deserve your hate in the first place?” I queried.

She thought about it. “Not much really. I mean, you told me to fuck myself one time.”

“Yeah, but that was because you wouldn’t invite me to your stupid spoiled whore party.” I countered.

“That’s because you were fat. ” She answered, brutally honest, before clasping her hand over her mouth. “That sounded really rude, didn’t it?”

I laughed it off. “Well I guess not much has changed, then.”

“No, no, you’re not _that_ bad looking nowadays.” She consoled.

“Wow, real confidence booster.” I smirked sarcastically.

“I mean, you’ve got that kind of fat-dad wearing a speedo at the beach body type, but it’s better than the ‘Jesus Christ, get him a bypass’, if you get me?”

“Oh my god!” I chuckled at the image. I was in too good of a mood to even chastise her without smiling. “You’re digging yourself in deeper shit.”

“I’m sorry! I should probably shut up. You’re really extraordinarily nice, and then there’s just me, calling you fat.” Bebe fretted.

“You’re lucky there’s not much else for me to do in this class. No matter how hard I try, this whole lesson is just fucking boring.” I directed a sly look at our teacher. “I have no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“You don’t? But it’s so easy!” Bebe opined.

“For you it is. You’re smart and funny.” I replied.

Bebe blushed. “I mean, I want to become a marine biologist, or a lawyer, so I guess I have to be.”

“That’s really kewl.” I commented. “Maybe not the lawyer bit, I don’t think you’d like that kind of boring job. But I think you’d make a great marine biologist.”

 “Th-thank you. It really means a lot to me.”

“It really shouldn’t. After all, what do I know? I’m just some fat-dad-wearing-a-speedo type teen that doesn’t even know how ionic bonds form.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I can’t believe I called you that. But I’m guessing you must be pretty strong; I saw the videos of you fighting. They’re really impressive, by the way.” She tittered awkwardly and looked away for a second. “I mean, I can help you with the bonding bit. You can read my notes.. if you want..”

Bebe took a notebook out of her abnormally huge purse. “Wait.. You might not understand my handwriting–”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” I interjected.

“I’ll write my phone number in it, just in case...” Bebe insisted, and I let her.

Only after the bell went for the next class did a question dawn on me.

Was she flirting with me?

She couldn’t be.

Bebe was, like, a solid nine out of ten.

At least.

No, it was probably just my imagination. After all, I was positive that she thought I was still in a relationship. Didn’t change the fact that many guys would’ve been drooling at the prospect of a chick like Bebe wanting them.

See, amazing things happened after I broke up with Heidi. The day itself just seemed brighter and more cheerful.

Music class also passed quickly. Tweek only fucked up a small handful of times, which was a new record for him. I was thoroughly impressed.

Everything seemed to be going just fine.

Until recess.

I found myself kind of at a loss. I had no fucking idea what to do. Usually, I would sit down in the cafeteria with Heidi, and just talk. But since she wasn’t in school, and wouldn’t want to do that with me even if she was, I was confused. And kind of bored.

I fumbled around at my locker for a good ten minutes. The coldness returned. Out of sheer boredom, I grabbed Bebe’s notebook and decided to head to the library. Our school had one of those, didn’t it? Hopefully, there wouldn’t be too many fucking nerds there.

Pretty optimistic, I bounded up the stairs, and headed in that general direction, taking my sweet, sweet time.

I opened the door to the corridor that led to the library.

A familiar person was also in that corridor.

Fuck.

Immediately, I tried sprinting away, hoping to fuck that he didn’t see me. But the scuffling footsteps approaching behind me told me otherwise.

I sped up.

He did too.

I rushed down one staircase, making my way to the Languages department corridor, up that staircase, then legged it to a completely different department, and back down. I hoped to lose track of him that way, but no, the footsteps were everlasting. If I weren’t so sure it was him, I would’ve checked behind me.

But he was intent on hunting me down.

As equally as I was in getting away.

Like a fucked up game of cat and mouse.

After making my way round the school nearly twice over, with still over half of recess left and a hot-headed Jew on the warpath behind me, I decided I had to do something.

Hide somewhere.

The toilets.

Of course!

With my heart pounding, scarily out of breath, I made it to the boy’s toilets, locking the weak door after.

The door shook precariously as a fist rammed into it.

Kyle’s fist.

I didn’t have much time.

I looked around.

Hastily, I decided to open the window, planning my escape route that way. The only problem was that I didn’t fit through.

Fuck.

The door rattled, and I heard his angry sounding voice yelling from the other side.

Double fuck.

Okay, backup plan. The two stalls.

I knocked on the first one.

“Occupied.” Replied the first inhabitant.

God damn it, Clyde!

I would’ve shouted at him to get the fuck out, but then my identity would have been revealed.

Unwillingly, I panicked.

I knocked at the second door.

No response.

A loud crackling sound reverberated around, followed by a couple sharp thuds.

Fuck.

Without thinking, I slid underneath the stall.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

One final burst of explosion caused the door to bust open into the wall.

I sat up, and looked at the mystery person sitting on the shitter.

He looked back at me.

“Cartman!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> What did you think so far? Hopefully the chasing scene wasn't too cringe worthy. As always, please do leave comments, criticism, or any type of feedback. Also, thank you to everyone who has already commented before- even if I don't reply, I am reading it all! And appreciating it all so much!
> 
> How was your guyses' New Year been so far? Mine's been awesome- I already broke my new year's resolution!


	9. How you remind me

Thank fuck it was only Butters in the stall.

I pressed my finger to my lips, wanting so badly to exhale in relief, but wouldn’t dare, in case Kyle heard me. But I was overwhelmingly grateful it wasn’t someone like Craig or Stan. I’d have been double fucked in that case; one would’ve screamed like a little girl, and the other ratted me out immediately. But Butters wouldn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t let him.

Butters stared at me in shock for a moment, mouth gaped open, fucking waiting for a fly to fall in. He gulped.

I did too.

“Cartman, I know you’re in here somewhere! We need to talk, you motherfucking asshole!” Kyle’s shrill voice resonated, the squeak of his footsteps on the bathroom tiles revealing his whereabouts. “I’m not going to let you get away this time!”

Well, he sounded like he was about to murder me.

“What did you do?” Butters mouthed at me silently.

I shook my head.

Butters nodded back at me once. Only once he looked down did he realise his pants were still around his ankles and used his Hello Kitty magazine to cover up his junk, turning pink as he did so.

Meanwhile, Kyle obviously must’ve gone for the same thought process that I have, because he knocked on stall door next to ours.

“How many times do I have to say that this toilet is occupied?” Clyde huffed harshly.

“Who knocked here before me?” Kyle demanded loudly.

“How am I supposed to know?” Clyde retorted. “It’s not like I open the door to every person that knocks, do I, Kyle? Now chill out and let me take a dump in peace!”

I had to cover my mouth with both my hands and bite my lip to stop an unwarranted laugh from escaping. The only thing that I didn’t manage to conceal was a tiny snort.

Like some damn bloodhound, Kyle seemed to have sensed my presence. He knocked on our stall door almost instantly.

I looked helplessly up at Butters, hands clasped tight together like he was my God. Because in that moment, he was the decider of my fate. And God help him if he decided to snitch on me.

“Occupied.” Butters stated.

“Is Cartman in there?” Kyle interrogated.

“No.” Butters answered, voice turning slightly higher at the end of the word, as if he was asking a question.

Oh fuck, I was doomed.

Why the fuck did Butters have to be such a shitty liar?!

“Butters!” Kyle commanded.

I made a slitting the throat gesture with my finger across my neck menacingly.

“Ky-yle, he’s not in here.” Butters lied, voice cracking.

He couldn’t sound less convincing if he tried.

I wanted to bitch slap him _so_ hard.

“Butters, are you lying?”

“N-no.”

That was game over for me.

Game fucking over!

“Butters I know you’re lying. Open the door.” Kyle stated triumphantly yet his tone was sharp as a knife.

I made a twisting motion with my hands, wishing I was already strangling Butters.

“Please leave me alone Kyle, I’m in the middle of dropping brownie bombs. Go look for Eric someplace else. Because I’m sure he ain’t in here.” Butters spoke, perhaps the most confidently in his life.

“Oh really? Do you want me to come in there and check for myself?” Kyle threatened, unconvinced

I held my fingers crossed as Butters continued their discourse.

“Kyle, I know we’re fellas, but what you’re about to do is called harassment and invasion of my privacy. If you do try to come in here, peep over, or look under this stall, I’m afraid I’ll have to tell on you, and I really don’t want to have to do that.”

Woo! Go Butters! You put that fucking Jew in his fucking place!

Kyle stumbled and stuttered for a moment before speaking again.

“But if Cartman’s in there then it’s my duty to check. If you’re not being honest then you’re going to be in really big trouble, Butters. So you best confess now.”

“Cartman’s not in here.” Butters lied. “I’m telling you truthfully.”

“Fine.” Kyle sighed frustrated. “I guess I’ll go now.”

The strangling part? Forget that! I could fucking kiss Butters right now! No homo, though.

The footsteps sound became quieter and quieter until the door to the bathroom slammed shut.

Butters looked at me, ready to say something-

I pressed my finger against my lips intently for a moment.

“He’s still there!” I mouthed at him, pointing behind me.

Butters quirked his eyebrow up unsurely.

“It’s a trap.” I expressed non verbally as best as I could.

He seemed to have gotten the message. We stayed together in silence for the rest of recess. I opened Bebe’s chemistry notes and Butters resumed reading his Hello Kitty Adventures magazine. It was quite companionable, really. The only thing that could’ve made my experience even fucking better if my ass didn’t hurt like a bitch from sitting on the cold floor. And Butters really wasn’t lying when he said he was dropping chocolate brownies. Or the fact that I still didn’t understand a word of what Bebe’s neat handwriting meant. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

Only a couple minutes after the first bell rang did I dare peep out of the stall. The bathroom was clear. I nodded permission for Butters to leave the premises, which he did, scuffling outside the stall we were crammed in like his life depended on it. I followed after.

With a nod, I let him go out of the room first, which he hurried out of in order not to be late. Trust him to still be a pussy. I took my time, taking the longest route possible lest I run into Kyle again.

Which was kind of pointless anyway.

It was philosophy next.

Literally the only fucking class I had with him.

Oh, fuck me.

The temptation to ditch was kind of irresistible. And I mean, really, really irresistible.

I was all set to skip philosophy and make my way home.

But what if Kyle already anticipated that and was waiting to ambush me somewhere else? That made me paranoid. Because I knew exactly to what lengths Kyle would go to just to get his way.

After a moment of deliberation, I figured that, technically, the safest place I could be was in that classroom. If he wasn’t there, then I was both safe and right. But if he was, then there wasn’t much he could do to me apart from send me a glare or something, which meant that I was still free from harm. Also, it would be considerably easier avoiding him amongst a whole crowd of people than alone.

I took a deep breath.

Philosophy class it was, then.

I arrived just as the warning bell chimed, and our teacher that had her stinky ass claws propped up on her desk grunted at my entrance. The level of professionalism at this school was over the fucking moon. Seriously.

I sat myself down, and after a couple minutes, she actually started the lesson. I was already zoning out at the sound of her voice, ignoring the ginger dickwad two desks in front of me as well as the rest of the class. Turns out the nerd wouldn’t ditch class after all.

“Eric Cartman!” the teacher called stridently.

I opened my eyes drowsily.

At first glance, I thought I was confronted by a seagull. Her ugly face was about three inches away from mine, but her long-ass beak was practically the only thing I saw.

I sat up. “What?”

“What was I just talking about?” she enquired, her dangly earrings glinting and nearly fucking blinding me. Never mind seagull, with such flashy things on her she had to be a magpie.

“I have no fucking clue.”

“Why weren’t you listening then?” The teacher pecked at me.

“Well I don’t know, maybe it’s because you bore me to fucking death, you old bird.”

A couple nervous titters erupted.

She cast me a glare with her beady eagle eyes.

“I was talking about your learning project homework.” She clucked pompously, striding up and down like a peacock. “Namely, on the topic of love.”

“Great.” I replied sardonically.

“Yes, really great. If you don’t start listening, I’ll choose your project partner for you.” The teacher cooed back at me.

“Do I look like I care who you pair me up with?”

The words escaped my mouth before I fully awoke. I was always argumentative when tired. But straight after, my blood ran cold, and I had to hold myself upright as to not fall out of my chair. If there was even the slightest risk I could end up with him, then I swear to....

She cocked her head and cawed throatily like a murder of crows. “That’s what I thought.”

Then she carried droning on about the irrationally long list of requirements for one damn week-long project. Well fuck. I stared unblinkingly at her rooster wattles so that I didn’t accidentally fall asleep during her sermon. When she finally finished explaining, after having to stop two more times to reprimand other students, she let us get into partners.

I have to admit, I was slightly panicked at the prospect, but thank Lord almighty that before Kyle could even turn around, Bebe claimed the spot next to mine.

She looked at me and I looked back at her.

“Partners?” We asked in unison.

“Partners.” We agreed, chuckling.

That was all settled then.

Damn.

Bebe was _really_ kewl.

Just tell a girl her shoes are nice and she’ll save you from a Jew. It worked like a charm for me.

Kyle looked fucking shocked at who I chose to get with. Maybe it was because Bebe was a total hottie and definitely looked like one of those stereotypically popular girls who usually wouldn’t spare me a second glance. Maybe it was because he fully expected me not to have anyone at all to partner up with. Whatever. The only thing I knew was that I wouldn’t let myself be confronted by him that easily.

Bebe and I started discussing what we’d do for the project immediately, her starting out with the base plan whilst I revamped and fleshed all the details out. To think that we were working together, like, willingly. Bebe must’ve been having the same thought.

“It’s weird to think that I’d never even consider working with you before! It seems ridiculous now, doesn’t it? You’ve got some really great ideas, Cartman– Wait, should I call you that?”

I looked up at her, quirking my eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t you?”

“Because it’s kind of awkward. You don’t go around calling me Stevens, do you now? And it just feels wrong.” She claimed.

“I mean, you can call me whatever you want.” I replied, shrugging. “Everyone always called me Cartman.”

“Yeah, but that’s what everyone who hates you calls you. Wendy created the trend of calling you Cartman amongst the girls, making all of us do it. And only now that I’ve been separated from them do I realise how mean that really is!” Bebe slowed down, pausing for a moment, hitting a sudden realisation. “They’ve turned you into the bad guy.”

Hmm. It seemed that someone really cared about me being the magical good guy in disguise that they discovered the truth about. Well, I wasn’t going to take that fun away from her. What harm would it do to play along?

“Oh Bebe. After sixteen or so years, you just have to get used to it and act the part.” I chuckled disingenuously.

Bebe frowned.

“That’s not fair!” She exclaimed.

“Life’s not fair.” I responded calmly.

“Well I’m not going to partake in that name-calling anymore. I don’t want anything to do with Wendy and her propaganda! From now on, I’m going to call you Eric.”

I hummed passively, focusing on the work.

She took her index finger and placed it under my chin, lifting my face up to hers.

“Isn’t this much better now, Eric?” Bebe asked earnestly, blue eyes glimmering.

I smiled at her.

A loose strand of her curly blonde hair escaped. She pulled back and tucked it into place before shimmying her seat closer to mine and resuming our plan.

I couldn’t quite focus.

Slightly disturbed, I looked around the room until I caught someone’s eye. Now, I don’t think I need to tell you who that was, since you very well know that only one person in this class would pry his Jew nose into my business. But I’ll give you a small hint in the likely case you’re thicker than pig shit: It was Kyle.

He was staring at us, stupefied. Completely, utterly confounded. Mouth wide open, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. When he caught me looking back at him, he turned back around and started whispering to his best friend for fucking ever whom he was working with. After a moment, Stan and Kyle both turned around to look.

But I couldn’t care less. In fact, I was kind of pleased with myself. I grinned proudly, and Bebe smiled at me.

“See, I knew that calling you Eric would be much better.” She said before tugging lightly on my shirt, redirecting my attention back to the work before us.

I paid no heed to them for the remainder of the lesson.

As soon as the bell rang, I bid Bebe farewell and rushed out of the classroom, hoping to avoid Kyle. And luckily, I did.

The rest of the day passed in relative harmony. Mom wasn’t home, as per usual, and she just left me a note explaining where the frozen pizza was and reminding me to be careful with the oven. Wow, I almost forgot I was seven years old and couldn’t operate one of those! And, to my complete shock, I also found out where on earth could the frozen pizza could be hidden! Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t between the couch cushions or underneath the kitchen table? I mean, who would’ve guessed that the frozen pizza was in the freezer?

Fucking no-one.

Nevertheless, I appreciated her shitty gesture.

After, I finished up some scraps of homework for a lack of anything better to do. I was kind of bored. It was only natural, usually I would have Heidi accompany me in doing shit. I twiddled my thumbs.

I know what you’re thinking. A teenage boy alone in the house with access to the internet! How could they possibly be bored? Well, firstly, get your mind out of the god damn gutter you fucking pervert.

And secondly, was I the only one who didn’t see the appeal about it? It was all the same. Some chick with a fake American accent getting pounded by a fifteen inch cock, with slight variations depending on whether it was anal or a threesome or something. But the basis was essentially the same– some shitty setting and about four minutes of ‘sexy’ dialogue, blowjob, fuck, cumshot.

At this point, I needed to look at the seriously freaky shit to get me up and running. And believe me when I tell you, I scoured _really_ deep into the dark web, and still, most of the time, I didn’t know whether I wanted to puke or scream or fuck myself at the sights I saw. Needless to say, I just didn’t see porn in the same way as everyone else afterwards.

Imagination it was, then. But I was actually honest when I told Heidi that the thought of her naked body didn’t arouse me. Besides, I wasn’t about to jack off to the thought of an ex girlfriend. That was just plain tacky.

Bebe then?

Because who wouldn’t jack off to Bebe?

I have to admit, her boobs were great– they always were. But they just weren’t ideal source material for wanking. Her hourglass figure was appealing, yes, but nothing more than that.

She was nice, but just as easily as I could think about her, I could open up incognito and type in ‘busty blonde’ and get about the same result.

So yeah.

I contemplated talking to Kenny, but I’d be seeing him later anyway, so what was the point in that? Maybe I could check up on Butters, see how he was doing? Eh, I wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit either. Besides, if I did tell him anything, he’d just blab his mouth to everyone. He was about as good a liar as a secret keeper. Which he was terrible at, save for today. Perhaps I could text Bebe then? Yea –no, bad idea, trying to talk to the girl I thought about sexually a couple minutes ago.

I was bored out of my mind.

A quick episode of Terrance and Phillip would pass the time. I went downstairs and settled down on the couch, bag of Cheesy Poofs in one hand, remote control in the other and binged my way through both the snack and the TV show until it was time to leave.

Kenny was still displeased with my choice, and I could feel his saltiness all throughout the killer workout session. Damn, why did he care so much? It my life, after all. Only after we went outside, did he start talking to me, but the disappointment in his tone wasn’t pretty fucking hard to find.

“So, how was philosophy?” He asked condescendingly.

“Pretty kewl.” I responded, unfazed.

“I heard you’re working with Bebe.”

“You heard correct.” I replied, putting my hands in my pockets.

“Strange, I was under the impression that you hated Wendy and her –and I quote– ‘Prissy blonde stupid bitch-whore sidekick’.”

“How you remind me.” I said deeply. “Not anymore.”

“Aha.”

We walked in silence.

“Who are you trying to fool, Cartman?” Kenny asked.

I looked at him incredulously.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I know you’re only doing this because you’re mad at Heidi. You know that too. You’re mad at her because she let Kyle try to talk to you. Which you don’t want to do, for some godforsaken reason that I don’t understand. I saw him chasing you earlier, and despite Kyle being one stubborn bastard, I know he won’t chase your attention-seeking ass forever. So wouldn’t it be so much easier for you and everyone who you pull into your drama, to just go to him, discuss whatever shit plagues you, apologise to eachother and move on?”

“No!” I contradicted. “Fuck off and mind your own business!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, the pair of you are impossible.”

“Wh– What do you mean, the pair of us?” I stammered, a little uneasy.

“He told me the exact same thing. Word for word. Both of you are as childish as eachother.”

I was nowhere near as childish as that spoiled Jewish brat. I bet his bitch of a mother wouldn’t even let him in the kitchen, so I was positively sure he didn’t even know an oven worked. But _I_ did. I was so much more mature than him already. In every single way. Well, apart from also being a virgin, but that didn’t count for anything. I could even bet that he didn’t have a clue about it.

“Whatever.” I huffed.

The rest of my walk with Kenny was spent in strained silence.

Finally, I reached home, and could breathe normally. Except that I couldn’t. It was like a belt buckle one hole too tight squished against my chest. Uncomfortable, I hoped that a hot shower would help.

It didn’t.

I sat on my bed, journaling _way_ into the night. There was no way I could go to sleep. No fucking way. Not after what Kenny tried to insinuate. I kept thinking and replaying his words. I was not as childish as Kyle. I would sort this out in an adult-like fashion.

I grabbed my clothes and shoved them on, heading outside.

The night was cold, and the chilly wind nipped at any exposed parts of my face. Kyle only lived a couple houses away, conveniently for me, so I didn’t have to go very far.

Time to get up into his bedroom. I climbed the old oak tree a couple feet away from his window, wheezing and panting. Fuck, this was always so much easier when Butters helped out. My clothes quickly seeped through with sweat, the flitting breeze making me even colder due to that.

I glanced upwards.

There were a lot of stars out tonight. And the moon was bright, with just a little mist spreading over it.

 I wobbled my way down a branch, until I was close enough to transfer my butt onto the exterior window ledge of Kyle’s window.

I took a troubled breath, looking up at the sky for motivation.

I would behave sophisticatedly. I would talk to Kyle with respect. I would not lose my temper and I most certainly would not do something stupid in revenge. I vowed those things to myself solemnly.

I peered inside his window.

Kyle was lying on his bed, sleeping soundly, a small frown and creases in his forehead decorating his face.

He was lying there shirtless, his pale skin exposed all the way down to his waist, which was covered luckily with his duvet. There were a couple orange wisps of hair on his freckled chest, rising up and down steadily with his breathing.

Next to him lay Nichole.

Cuddled up to his side.

Naked.

And in that moment, all my vows went fuck all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what are your thoughts on this chapter? I'm really curious to know! Please do tell me.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, on a completely unrelated topic, not linking this to my fic in a shape whatsoever (sarcasm intended, since I can't write in italics in the notes section) - who do you think would be top and who would be bottom in Kyman? Or, if switches, who would go top first?


	10. Flawless

For the first couple moments, I couldn’t believe what I saw. My stomach churned, and I could literally _feel_ the putrid bile rising in my throat. Before I could even react, my head was turned the other way as all the contents of my stomach were falling down to the ground. The puddle below was clearly artificially orange amidst the white snow. Well, there went all my Cheesy Poofs. I wiped the remnants of the sickening goo from my lips with my hand and then smeared that on the wall. Only after that disaster did the rest of me catch on to what I just witnessed.

That fucking Jew!

He abused Nichole on purpose.

I could not fucking believe him. Maybe it was just a fever dream. It _had_ to be a dream. Another fucking nightmare just to mess with my head. Yeah! I was at home in bed all along, and I’d wake up any moment now.

I looked through the window once more.

Kyle was still there.

As was Nichole.

I pinched myself, hard.

They were still there.

My stomach squished and knotted itself into a tight ball.

I couldn’t fucking bear it.

As one might expect, I wasn’t just a little pissed off. I was fucking furious. My blood boiled beneath my skin, wisps of steam flying out of my ears and escaping into the night sky. The anger, it churned within, hungry for destruction, and I was more than happy to obey. It spread into every cell of my body, other feelings shutting down as this virus of unbridled rage took over.

The Jew wanted to play dirty like that?

Well I would double his score.

//

“Baby!” I whispered urgently. “Honey, wake up.”

“Eric?” Heidi asked, bemused and still much more asleep than awake.

I shook her gently.

“Yeah, it’s me.” I answered back.

She awoke immediately, eyes widening, straitening herself up. “Wha– What on earth are you doing here?”

“Let’s fuck.”

Heidi shook her head as if she misheard me. “We’re not – I – But– You said–”

I cut her off with a deep kiss.

“Forget about that shit.” I replied when I surfaced back for some air, grabbing at her immediately.

“Ew, you taste like rotten Cheesy Poofs.” Heidi whined, pulling away

“Well you’ve got morning breath, but I’m not sitting here complaining about it, am I?” I retorted impatiently. “Heidi, come on!”

“I just.. feel overwhelmed at the moment. It’s like some demon suddenly possessed y–“

Again, I kissed her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her up.

I didn’t have time for her bullshit.

Straight after, I dropped her back on the bed so that she was laying flat on her back, then started trailing my way down her neck, pinning her arms in place above her.

“Eric! Eric please, what are you doing?” Heidi squirmed.

“For someone that wanted to get into my pants this many times you’re surprisingly clueless as to what’s about to happen.” I stated between kisses.

“Eric, my parents are right next door! It’s two in the morning!” Heidi protested.

But she didn’t explicitly say no.

That meant I was pretty much good to carry on.

Besides, it wasn’t her I was concerned about. She was a pushover anyway, and would fall to the pressure eventually, as soon as she realised that I would do what I want. It would just be easier if she didn’t try to resist. After all, she wanted this for so long, and I was going to give it to her.

“You’ll just have to be quiet then, won’t you?” I purred.

“Please Eric, can we just talk thi–“

 “My baby.” I cut her off. “You. Are. Flawless.”

“But that’s not what–”

“Fucking beautiful, do you understand me?” I spoke madly, kissing her on the lips once more. “You want this, don’t you? No need to answer, my princess, I already know you do.”

Heidi opened her mouth to speak, but I silenced her by lightly pushing her jaw upwards.

“Just shush, baby. I’m going to do all the work, you just relax.” I said sweetly. “This is your golden ticket to make me feel good. You want this opportunity, don’t you, my love?”

She looked bewildered; tried speaking again. This time, I shoved my fingers in her mouth, using my other hand to pin her arm down, just in case she tried to do something stupid.

“Don’t you fucking speak.” I spat harshly, only thinking about softening my tone afterwards. “Alright baby?”

A tear glistened in Heidi’s eye, descending onto her cheek.

“Oh, honey, no need to cry.” I comforted. “I’m just giving you what you want. Like I always do. It’ll be great, trust me.”

I licked her cheek.

Oh my fucking God.

Her tear was so, so fucking delicious.

Positively delectable.

I pulled down her pyjama bottoms, as well as my own, and started getting down to business.

Heidi tried speaking around my fingers.

I mean, what kind of person would just let themselves become pliable if it were rape? No-one! Another reason why she did, in fact, want it; If she didn’t, she would’ve bitten my fingers.

Angrily, I pulled them out. “What?”

“Condoms.” Heidi pleaded desperately.

“What the fuck do we need them for? We don’t have time for them.” I replied.

“Eric! I’m not doing anything without protection.” Heidi pretended to sound harsh, but was failing miserably. She wasn’t even trying to resist at all now. “They’re in the top drawer.”

“Fine.”

Quickly, I whipped one out of the packet and put it on, for her sake. At least she would stop bitching now.

Then, I aligned myself and pushed in.

Heidi squeaked, covering her mouth with her hand.

I wanted to get this over and done with as fast as possible.

It was pure rage fuelling me on, because Heidi looked like shit. Her mousy hair was all tousled up, her eyes still had traces of sleep boogers in them, her face was all round and blotchy after crying all day. Her body also sucked ass, but at least she was going along with the flow. I heard her make tiny noises now and then, which I assumed to be pleasured ones. But I couldn’t care less if they weren’t. She was a woman, for fuck’s sake, she was supposed to find this enjoyable.

Then again, I wasn’t enjoying myself either.

Basically, I just rammed into her repeatedly until I was sure she had an orgasm. Or faked one. I didn’t care which one it was. Eventually, she did, and oh so gratefully, I tucked myself back in after throwing the empty condom in the trash. I was still pissed off.

Good thing I still had round two to go.

I stood up, grabbed one of Heidi’s other condoms from the pack, shoved it in my pocket, and took out my phone.

**E.C: Hey, it’s me, Eric. Hope I didn’t wake you up. I’m feeling like shit.**

I got off Heidi’s bed and put on my shoes.

“Is this it? Are you just leaving me right now?” she queried, disappointed.

“Heidi, it’s nearly three in the morning. What fucking else am I supposed to do? Of course I’m fucking leaving.”

She pouted miserably. “This isn’t at all what I imagined my first time to be like.”

I chucked darkly.

“Welcome to the real world.”

I opened her window and jumped out. Luckily, a huge mound of snow softened the fall, and I brushed myself off before continuing on my merry way. My phone vibrated in my pocket.

**B.S: I’m awake. Come over and we can talk, even all night if you want. I would love to make you feel better. <3 **

Fuck yeah!

A couple moments after, I was at Bebe’s house, knocking on the front door quietly.

She opened it a split-second after.

“Come on in! My mom’s staying the night at her friend’s house and Daddy’s on a business trip.” Bebe reassured.

Well that was nice to know.

Like a perfect host, she took off my coat and hat for me, placing them on a hanger. Like a perfect girl, she was wearing a touch of make-up, not too little, not too much, and had her blonde locks styled perfectly. Pretty impressive considering the fact that I literally texted her about ten minutes ago. This was why she was so much better than stupid old Heidi. Bebe was kewl.

However, with Bebe, I had to play a different game than with Heidi.

A calmer one. More patient.

But that didn’t mean I was any less angry about the trauma caused by Kyle.

“Do you want anything to drink?” She asked politely, already sauntering off into the kitchen.

“What is my lovely hostess suggesting we drink?” I countered.

She smacked her lips together delightedly. “Well, since no-one’s going to catch us, should we go for something a little more... dangerous?”

“I’m down for it.” I laughed, following her.

“Oh thank goodness! You’re great, Eric, not like the girls! Whenever I suggest we do anything remotely fun, Wendy always shuts it down like the party pooper she is!” Bebe moaned, leaning over to grab some ice from the freezer.

She was wearing a purple silk nightgown that–I’m not going to lie– looked really slutty. Like, if she bent down even a centimetre further, it would ride up to expose her. But hey, why was I complaining? All the better for me. Especially as I was still hiding a raging boner.

“Oh please, girlfriend. Tell me more.” I said as I sat down on one of the kitchen bar stools.

She did so gladly while preparing some kind of crazy cocktail mix thing. I was watching her cautiously throughout, because that concoction sure did not seem very... safe. At all. When she finally finished, she sat down beside me, sliding over one of the drinks.

“So, what’s this creation of yours?” I asked, curiously stirring the drink with my straw.

“I call it the Triple S.” Bebe remarked proudly, taking a sip. “It’s a mix between a sangria and sex on the beach. With triple the alcohol. A Steven’s tradition.”

Impressed, I nodded.

Okay then.

I took a sip myself.

It was really fucking strong, but the only taste stronger than that was the fucking sugar inside that thing. My mouth nearly foamed at the front with the sweetness while the alcohol fumes burned in my throat relentlessly. I looked over at Bebe, who was clearly having no trouble with it at all.

Props to her. The girl clearly knew how to handle her drinks.

“Woah. This thing is fucking something alright.” I complimented, taking another long slurp, all the while thinking about whether I was convincing her with my words or not. “It’s really fucking sweet.”

I meant that literally. But Bebe was always kind of a figurative girl.

“Oh, thank you!” Bebe exclaimed, placing one hand on my shoulder. “Well, cheers to the Triple S!”

We clinked glasses and abandoned the straws altogether. Which was a whole lot better, because I could actually avoid the overwhelming saccharine sweetness by just downing the drink in one go. Shame that the burn didn’t disappear.

“Wow! You actually like it! You’re like, the perfect girlfriend, Eric. Everyone else always takes one sip and says that it tastes like sweetened shit.” Bebe chirped. “And I appreciate that you for that. You’re different than all the other girls. And boys. And everyone else.”

She stood up, took our glasses, and refilled them with more.

Well, I wasn’t going to refuse if such a pretty girl like Bebe was offering more.

The second drink was substantially less sweet. And less strong. Maybe that was just me, though. We chit-chatted happily, Bebe complaining about her bitchy ass girlfriends, me adding in snide remarks about Wendy.

“I know, right? She’s always around Stan these days. ‘Stan this, Stan that’, I can’t fucking Stan it!” Bebe bitched.

I started laughing uncontrollably at her pun. Bebe joined in, and we both just tittered like little bitches. That was fun as well. Everything she said just became more funny. In general, everything just became funnier as more time went by.

“Yeah, yeah! I agree, Babes. Can I call you Babes? I’m gonna call you Babes. That’s okay with you, right Babes?” I started babbling while Bebe still laughed. “Babes. It’s like, not even a word. Babes. Babes, is Babes a word? ”

“Yeah, call me Babes. I like Babes.” Bebe snickered.

“You are a Babes.” I responded, and we both went roaring with laughter, holding on to the edge of our stools to not fall off.

Bebe was so much fun!

I felt the anger slowly dissipating with each and every smile. To be honest, I didn’t even feel like fucking her as much.

I took another gulp, only to find, that to my horror, there was nothing in my drink but ice.

My drink being suddenly empty and fucking rude like that was fucking hilarious. So I slid it over to Bebe, in the most kewl way imaginable so that she would refill it for me.

She reached out to grab it, but the glass magically moved itself away from her grasp and rolled over the side of the kitchen island counter onto the floor.

We looked at eachother, gobsmacked for a second.

“Glass go shmash.” Bebe slurred slightly, lips creasing upward.

“So, glash, basically.” I added, biting my lower lip to prevent the inevitable.

We looked at eachother, then at the glass, and back at eachother, and went back to laughing raucously.

“Here, let me– let me– let me grab some vodka, and we can get away from all this fucking glash.” Bebe tittered, standing up.

“No! Look at those footsies!” I cried. “You’ll get a glash slash if you walk on it!”

“You’re right!” Bebe exclaimed. “See, look at you. Always planning ahead. You’re so fucking smart, Eric. But how are we going to get the vodka?”

“My dear Babes, I have a plan. I’ve got socks on.”

“Ah-uh.”

“So I won’t get glashed.”

Bebe snorted.

“Because I’m safe from being glashed, and you know where the vodka is, I’ll jump over the glass whilst giving you a piggy back, you grab the alcohol, get on my back, and we jump back over it.”

For a moment, Bebe stared at me, mouth open.

“Eric, you’re a fucking genius!” She applauded, amazed.

“Thank you Babes, I know I am.”

I stood up.

The room swayed violently for a second, and I felt like I was in a pepper shaker. Fortunately, after blinking a couple times, it stopped, kind of.

I crouched down, and felt Bebe’s weight on my back. She placed both her arms around my chest, holding tight, her legs wrapped around my midsection.

“Three, two, one, go!” Bebe laughed into my neck.

I tried getting back on my feet. Key word: tried.

The room went all funny and spinny again, and before I could take more than I couple steps, I found myself falling back on the floor, landing on my knees and forearms. I crawled to my destination. Bebe’s weight kept shifting forward until, essentially, her thighs were squeezed around my neck as she rummaged around the bottom cupboard. After a couple moments of scuffling, she announced loudly.

“I’ve got the vodka!”

She shimmied back into place, and I crawled backwards until we were back safely.

We used eachother to stand back up again.

“Eric, you’re my hero.” Bebe thanked me.

“You’re welcome, Babes. That was quite a dangerous adventure, if I say so myself.” I replied.

“It most certainly was!” Bebe declared. She used the counter to prop herself up straight, then took a couple steps along it to the right, looked down and went eerily silent.

“What?” I asked, concerned.

Why the fuck was Bebe silent?

With a glint in her drunken eye, she convulsed with laughter.

“What! What is it?” I demanded.

“We were on the non-dangerous side.”

Shocked, and a little devastated, I wobbled over next to her, and indeed, found that all the glass was on the complete opposite end of the counter.

“Come on.” She bubbled. “Let’s go to my room.”

“But I don’t want to fuck you!” I protested.

Bebe answered back in between chuckles. “I don’t want to fuck you either!”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me upstairs. Everything jiggled and wobbled horribly, but we managed to cross from the downstairs dimension into the upstairs one.

“Wait. I kind of need to pee.” I gushed.

“Me too!”

Bebe and I cackled as she dragged me to the bathroom. I expected her to just leave me waiting outside, but she pulled me right in the room with her.

Okay! I was down with that.

The walls were a bright blue shade, with a fancy shower slotted in one corner, a toilet opposite it, and a double sink with a huge mirror behind it.

“Why the fuck do you have two fucking sinks?” I asked while Bebe sat down on the toilet.

“I don’t know.” Bebe contemplated for a second while she peed.“Probably so you can piss in one and wash your hands in the other.”

“Oh! It makes so much sense now!” I slapped myself on the forehead for being so stupid before.

My aim was pretty woozy, but I’m pretty sure most of it landed where it should have. After, we washed our hands in the sink next to it, and exited the bathroom together. Maybe Bebe saw my dick, maybe she didn’t. Whatever, I do what I want!

“Why did you take me in there with you?” I inquired, a little stupefied.

“It’s a girl thing. You can never pee alone in the bathroom with your friends around. Or you get seven years bad luck.” Bebe told me, earnestly nodding her head while she led me to her bedroom.

“How do you know?”

“Well I don’t.” Bebe replied. “But I’m not willing to risk seven fucking years bad luck over it!”

Of course! How could’ve I not known it before?

“You make a good point, Babes.”

We settled down on her bed, talking and taking swigs from the vodka bottle. Every topic under the sun was discussed by us, starting from whether the moon landing was a conspiracy to whether humans could communicate using bird chirps. By the end of the night, we were fucking besties forever and ever. I knew more about Bebe than she did about herself and vice versa. Together, we got on like a house on fire, understanding eachother in the only way severely intoxicated people can.

The sun was rising, and we were sucking out the dregs when the topic came up.

“Okay, okay, but if you had to, what girl would you fuck?” I asked drunkenly.

Bebe peered at the blanket on the bed and fiddled with it a little.

“I don’t know! You ask hard questions, Ricky.”

Yeah, Ricky became a nickname somewhere between the fourth and fifth swig from the bottle.

Don’t– Just don’t ask.

And don’t fucking judge my Bebzie-boo either. She, and only she, would ever have permission to refer to me as that.

I quirked my eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“Lola, probably. Yeah, Lola. I like her hair. It’s so nice and silky.” Bebe admitted sheepishly. “What about you? What guy do you wanna fuck?”

“I am straight as a stone, my Beberina! As a fucking rock, you get me? I don’t want to fuck no guys, ever!” I officially insisted.

“You do you, Ricky-roo. I accept you no matter what.” Bebe said. “But if I were a guy, I’d totally get with Kyle. I mean, have you seen his ass? It’s fucking amazing! I’d smash that harder than the glash on the floor!”

We laughed together in an extremely drunken stupor.

I wasn’t even the tiniest bit mad at him anymore!

And it seemed the drunkenness got a little too inside my head.

“Bebe, this is so, so, _so_ fucking gay, and you can’t ever tell anyone, ever, but I saw him nearly naked in bed.” I confessed.

“Oooh!” She screeched suddenly. “That’s really hot!”

“I know, right?” I agreed. “Wait! No! Hot for you! For you! Me is– I mean– I am straight!”

Bebe giggled like a maniac, rolling over on the bed.

After a little while, she finally slowed down and took in deep breaths.

“I always suspected you two had a thing for eachother.” Bebe slurred.

“Go home Bebe, you’re drunk!” I responded, not quite managing to get my ‘r’ sound right.

“So are you!”

She leaned back on the bed, and I did too.

The world just blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Opinions?  
> Did I go too harsh on Heidi?  
> Because to me at least, it does seem like something Cartman would be capable of doing.  
> Also, opinions on Bebe? Have you had enough of her yet?
> 
> Also, thank you for all the wonderful comments on the previous chapter! It actually surprises me how many of you people are accepting of any top/bottom. I'm a really picky person, so if I see a fic with my preferred character in a different role then I won't read that smut chapter, no matter how awesome the author.
> 
> P.S, my updates might start slowing down sometime soon, but I'm not quitting this. But you know, you can't be on Christmas break forever!


	11. Psycho

Urgh.

Oh fuck, my head pounded mercilessly before I even had the chance to open my eyes. They happened to be glued shut, because no matter how many times I tried opening those eyeballs of mine, I completely an utterly failed. My throat was drier than a certain Jew’s sandy vagina; I longed for nothing more than a simple sip of water, and, of course, the eradication of Judaism, but I received neither.

When I did finally manage to sit up (and with a heaving breath did I do so) the contents of my empty stomach lurched upwards slightly. Taking a couple deep breaths, I managed to keep whatever was inside me from spewing out and once more did I try to open my eyes.

I was greeted with blinding brightness for a couple seconds before everything darkened back to normal. Of course, I blinked a couple times, trying to make myself more at peace with my surroundings. Only then did I realise that I wasn’t in my own room.

Bebe was still snoring soundly on the bed, any traces of make-up smeared messily on the pillow beside her, hair dishevelled all over the place, as well as her limbs, all sprawled out.

What a lovely sight.

But I came to her house for one reason, and one reason only: to know that I fucked her. Which, as it seemed from the clothing on my body and hers, it seemed that I failed at doing last night. I silently reprimanded myself for neglecting that task and getting drunk off my ass instead.

However, not everything was lost.

I walked up to her desk and started rummaging around in her drawer, pushing past notepad after notepad, pen after pen, until I found a pair of large scissors.

There, those would do nicely.

I grinned.

Like a depraved serial killer, I crept up silently behind her, as one would do. She didn’t even stir when I was only a couple centimetres away from the back of her head, scissors gripped in my hand, raised up.

Gently, I pushed away some of the hair from the nape of her neck with my free hand. Bebe was still unconscious. Not that I minded, of course.

But before I could proceed, I heard a quiet telltale sign.

Keys jangling in the front door of the Stevens residence.

Uh oh.

I had to act, and act fast.

Obviously, I didn’t have time for plan A, so I had to improvise instead. I made a slight slit in the middle of Bebe’s nightdress with the scissors, carefully, making sure I didn’t puncture her skin with it, and snipped it open big enough for both my hands to fit through.

The person at the front door was clearly struggling with the lock. I heard groans and grunts as they desperately tried to open it. Now, you may be asking, how did I hear it if I was upstairs? Well, the answer to that seemed to surprise even myself, but it seemed that sometime during our drunken haze, either me or Bebe opened the window.

A little weird, but whatever.

I gripped the fabric of the nightdress and tore it apart with my hands, making it look like it was done so in a fit of wild passion leading up to sex. The least I could do was make it seem believable, so I snipped and tattered it up some more.

But then, the front door to the house opened, and I barely managed to hear a high pitched voice call out something along the lines of “Bebe, I’m home!” in my frenzy to get out of her room.

As quickly as I could, I stuffed the scissors back into the drawer, scribbled down a **_thx 4 last nite_ **on one of her many notepads that happened to be laying around and proceeded to try to escape. However, I couldn’t just nonchalantly wander out of her room and downstairs.

Bebe’s mom –I assumed it was– started walking up the stairs, the stairs creaking under the weight of her massive boobs.

I would have to get my ass out through the window. While hung-over. Fucking wonderful!

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to complain, or think through my actions, as I crawled out the window and held onto the outside window ledge with my hands, legs dangling in the air. Only once Bebe’s mom burst into her room and started yowling something about getting drunk did I notice a teeny tiny mistake I made.

That I had absolutely nowhere to flee.

And no way to get back in her room.

I had no idea how long Bebe’s mother would stay in her room for, but I knew for a fact that my arms were already aching and I wouldn’t be able to hold on for long. For obvious reasons, I wouldn’t be able to climb back up and re-enter the room either, with her mother occupying it. Also, the sound of her tone in which she yelled at Bebe implied that she was less than pleased about the drunken escapade. I certainly wouldn’t help the situation.

Looking below me, there was snow. But only about an inch or so; nowhere near enough for me to just let go without breaking my legs upon impact with the ground. Starting to get desperate, I surveyed my surroundings, feeling my grip loosen slightly.

There was nothing.

Not a single fucking tree, or lamp post, or anything that could help me out.

This... This was _not_ fucking good.

In fact, it was far from it.

It was about as much of a _not-good-at-fucking-all_ situation as you could imagine.

My strength was depleting rapidly, and my booze-blocked brain couldn’t figure anything out. I couldn’t even panic much –I wasn’t _able_ to panic much without drawing unneeded attention to myself.

I just hoped no-one was watching.

The closest thing to me was the overhang canopy above the front door a couple feet to my right. It was my only chance to get down relatively safely, however slim it was.

I had to take a blind leap of faith.

And I did.

Barely, the fingers on my right hand skimmed across the canopy, and I managed to grab it just for long enough to slow down my fall.

Only a second or two after, my arm couldn’t take the struggle of holding my weight, and I collapsed onto the snow.

Instantly, I got myself on my feet, my entire left side numb and red with the exposure to the icy floor. After living about sixteen years in Colorado, shouldn’t I be used to the cold?

I felt the top of my head.

I didn’t have my hat on.

Or my coat.

That explained a lot, honestly.

But I wouldn’t risk going inside that house to retrieve my items. I guessed I’d just have to limp home freezing cold.

It was a pain in the ass, but ultimately, I made it back, somehow, alive and with only mild symptoms of hypothermia.

Mother dearest seemed to be elsewhere, to my relief. Though I was too mentally exhausted to even register that fact and how her absence saved me having to explain myself as to why I wasn’t in school.

I locked the front door behind me and limped inside the house.

With a deep sigh, I collapsed onto the couch bearing a two litre bottle of water in one arm and a pack of cookies in the other. A frozen lasagne was cooking in the oven– I even set a timer so that it wouldn’t burn.

I downed the water in a couple greedy gulps, throwing the bottle across the room carelessly. The cookies were also gone in a matter of moments– I wiped the crumbs off my lips and any that happened to escape onto the couch cushions were also swiped down onto the floor. I could worry about being neat and cleanly another time.

Extremely beaten and still majorly hungover, I turned on some random channel on the TV, chucking the remote onto the coffee table– the loud slam hurting my ears slightly. I just wanted the soothing buzz of commentary to ease me up.

Then, I covered up with my favourite teal-blue blanket and turned to the side, back to the TV. My feet were poking out the other end, but what else could I expect– I had this blanket ever since forever. I couldn’t remember when exactly I obtained it, but I assumed my mother bought it for me.

I fiddled with the blanket drowsily. Albeit a bit small, it was really soft and really fluffy, which made up for all its’ shortcomings. Sure, the material matted slightly over the years, but it was nevertheless my favourite and still in good condition. In fact, it was one of my few prized possessions that I went to painstaking lengths to take care of; it was obviously an expensive blanket –apparently rumoured to be one hundred percent cashmere– and so I treated it with immaculate care. Although I washed it several times (by hand, of course, the material was delicate) it still had an inexplicably familiar musk that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. However, by now, after nearly seven years of sniffing it, it was more comforting than anything else.

I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep almost instantaneously.

//

There were several click-clacking noises coming from the front door. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed someone was trying to break the lock using some bobby pins. But that method was _way_ overused and cliché. Besides, there were several more effective ways to break into someone’s house– and trust me, I knew from experience.

I turned over again and lay on the couch, silently contemplating for a little while more.

My headache was lessening, as were all the other effects, and I was actually starting to get peckish. I remembered my food left in the oven, and wearily opened my eyes.

A pair of long, lean legs draped in olive green corduroy pants appeared in my field of vision. They were cross legged on an armchair, and atop them sat a plastic container, with the contents being lifted up with a fork.

Contents that looked particularly golden-brown and wavy, with an impressive pull from the cheese on top.

“MY LASAGNA!” I screamed, sitting up.

It was **_him_**.

“What the fuck are you doing!” I shouted rather than questioned the intruder.

Kyle raised his eyebrow.

“Get the fuck out of mah house!” I ordered, clenching my fists.

He took another bite as if nothing happened.

His impertinence was fucking outstanding.

I pitied him. I really did.

Because I was going to fuck him up.

Furiously, I stood up and marched over to him. My hands were up, ready to throw the first punch.

Kyle, however, seemed unfazed.

In fact, his Mike Wazowski-esque eyes twinkled sinisterly.

“You really want to fight a battle you can’t win?” Kyle asked calmly, taking another bite.

Oh, I was about to prove that Jewish fucker wrong.

I was going to kick his ass!

Suddenly, I was on my knees.

One of Kyle’s long-ass legs was dangling down from the armchair, innocently swinging back and forth.

There was intense pain spreading through my nervous system, and I clutched at the affected area, taking deep breaths in a failing attempt to stop myself from tearing up. A knife ramming through my chest would’ve been less painful than what I was experiencing at the current moment.

The burn was blinding.

In pure agony, I clenched my eyes shut, shaking slightly.

“Do you want to sit yourself back down or should I kick you in the balls again?”

That... That heartless bastard...

Unwillingly, I conceded, retreating back to the couch and covering myself with my blanket up to the chin like a salty teenage girl about to scolded for harbouring her boyfriend’s drugs. I also made sure to cover my balls.

“Stop sulking.” Kyle demanded, scraping out the remnants of cheese around the edges of the container and then reaching over to place it on the coffee table.

“Oh, I’m sorry Captain Jackass. I have no reason to fucking sulk, do I now?” I muttered back sarcastically. “It’s not like you broke into my house, ate my lasagne and kicked me in the balls. In the fucking balls, Kahl!”

“Oh, whatever, fatass.” Kyle looked me up and down. “You know you can survive without food for a damn while. As for the kicking? You asked for it, in case you don’t remember, or have short-term memory problems.”

“Fuck you, Kyle! I should technically be calling the police right now. In case _you_ don’t remember, breaking into someone’s house is fucking illegal.” I retorted.

“You’re one to talk!” Kyle accused. “I had to clean up _your_ vomit off our lawn this morning.”

Haha! Sucks to be Kyle! But I wasn’t going to admit to that victory over him just yet.

“What vomit? What lawn?”

“Don’t you try and act like you don’t know exactly what I’m on about!” Kyle snapped. “I know it was yours!”

“Oh please, I know your kind is dirty as well as disgusting, but to tell a person from their puke is a little extreme, don’t you think, Kahl?” I responded sardonically, leaning forward.

His cheeks turned redder than his freckles.

“There’s only one fucking person in this entire town that could be able to make their puke fucking _orange_!” Kyle proclaimed loudly. “And that’s you!”

“Is the only reason why you’re here to tell me about my amazing puke abilities?” I bickered.

If he was going to stay in my house, he at least better have a damn good reason for his visit.

“No!” Kyle barked. “I want the pictures!”

“What fucking pictures?” I asked, slightly perplexed.

“Cartman! I’m warning you! You better just hand over the pictures you took!” Kyle threatened.

“Kahl, I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about!” I answered back.

Was the Jew high or something? He was out of his mind, clearly. But then again, he always was.

Kyle glowered but I still didn’t understand what he wanted from me.

He took a deep breath and started again, taking on a more professional tone, as if he were some kind of lawyer or something.

“Cartman, I know you were at my window last night. The puke confirms it.” Kyle started.

He wanted to play prosecutor with me?

Fine!

Then I’d play defendant.

“Objection!” I stated. “You’re making invalid claims, Jew. What about my supposed puke on your lawn makes you think I was at your window?”

“There’s nothing supposed about your vomit and you know it, fatass! You even admitted it was yours a couple fucking moments ago.” Kyle spat before regaining a small amount of composure. “There was also some on the wall next to my window. That’s where I get my claim from.”

Fuck!

He noticed my momentary pause.

“What if you planted it there to incriminate me?” I questioned. “You always were a sneaky Jew, Kahl.”

Kyle’s psyche may or may not have snapped _just a little_.

“CALL ME A SNEAKY JEW AGAIN AND I’LL FUCKING RIP YOUR WORTHLESS LUNGS OUT, YOU ANTI-SEMETIC FUCKING LIAR!”

“Jesus, calm your tits Kahl.” I replied, the tiniest flicker of worry warning me that pissing him off further would lead to some undesired consequences.

He glared at me for a moment, nostrils flared, face almost purple with exasperation.

“You don’t know how hard it is for me to not just go up to you and punch your stupid face.” Kyle breathed unsteadily.

“Psycho.” I mumbled under my breath, covering the lower part of my face with my blanket.

Kyle stared at me for a moment.

Just gazing at me.

He cocked his head to the side, as if he almost didn’t believe what I just said.

Then he burst into maniacal laughter.

Worried that I was sitting next to a complete and utter lunatic, I leaned back on the couch and snuggled into my blanket, waiting for him to stop.

“You love fucking with me, don’t you?” Kyle sneered. “I’ve never met a more sadistic person in my life. You’re intentionally holding back and waiting for the perfect opportunity to jeopardize my relationship with those pictures of yours. I know it. But you have the gall to just, act like this, while you’re at it?”

Kyle waved his hand at me in a mocking manner.

“You’re going fucking insane, Kyle. You sound like a crazy person.” I confessed. “I have no fucking clue what you mean.”

Kyle ignored me.

“You saw me and Nichole. Together.” He spoke softly. “And I _know_ that you did something to get back at me. The question now is what did you do? My guess is that you took photos of us.”

“Why would I give two shits who you stick your dick into?” I snorted. “It’s not my fault if you can’t even score with a white chick so you have to settle for a second class citizen.”

“Stop the racist remarks, fatass.” Kyle said, but it was a half-hearted chastisement. “You have a tendency for taking pictures when someone is sleeping to laugh at them later.”

I gave him an incredulous look.

“Don’t act like I’ve forgotten your sleepovers with Butters in fourth grade. You never told him about your photo album that you so graciously shared the contents with us.”

Kyle did have a point, to be honest.

It made me almost smack my head for not thinking of such a genius idea before.

“Exactly, fatass.” He seemed to have read my mind. “So I’m here to stop you from leaking them. Because if you do, Nichole will be all over my ass, and in turn, I’m going to cut your balls off.”

“You sound thoroughly pussy-whipped to me.” I remarked. “But I assure you, Kyle, that I do not take pictures of Jews. They’re a waste of space equally on my phone as in real life.”

Kyle glared bullets at me as I lay down on my side, propping myself up on one elbow, covering myself with the blanket. The TV was turned off.

“Kahl, be a darling and help prove your stereotype untrue by passing me the remote before getting the fuck out of mah house.” I said.

Bitterly, Kyle threw the remote at my face.

I caught it in time, and he clearly looked displeased about that too. There’s just no satisfying a Jew, I’m telling you.

He stood up, making a half-scowling, half-disbelieving face at me as I made myself more comfortable by curling up so that my feet were fully tucked in.

He gave me a perplexed look.

Why the fuck was he all confused?

“What are you looking at me like that for? Are you jealous of my super kewl blanket?” I asked. “Well, you should be.”

Kyle shook his head, bemused. “You _like_ this blanket?”

“Of course I fucking do, it’s bloody awesome.” I stated proudly. “Here, since you were so nice in giving me the remote, I’ll even let you feel its’ softness.”

I held out a small corner. I wanted to make him even more envious by letting him feel the delicate fabric I was currently cocooned in.

Taking a moment to glance back and forth between me and the blanket, Kyle took a step towards me and gently felt the cashmere material.

“So fucking kewl, am I right?” I beamed as he stroked the blanket. “It’s like, my absolute favourite thing in the whole entire world. You jealous, Kahl? Yeah, I thought you might be, since I happen to have the best blanket under the sun."

I wasn’t lying when I said that.

Politely, I let this go on for a moment more before I pulled the corner back.

“There, that’s enough. I don’t want you getting your Jew germs all over it.”

Obligingly, Kyle took a step away from me.

He was smiling.

Like, an actual, proper, _nice_ kind of smile.

I didn’t understand why.

Kyle never smiled because of anything I did.

“You kept this blanket in near perfect condition, I see.” Kyle marvelled.

“Of course I did, Jew. I take care of all things precious to me.” I responded obviously.

His shock at that statement was baffling to me.

“See Kyle, maybe if you didn’t have such a bitch of a mother, maybe she would care enough to get you one like mine did.” I taunted. “Now go away.”

Kyle grabbed his coat and put it on, either not noticing my goad (which I knew for a fact he did notice– the very top of his cheeks turned pink) or flat-out ignoring it.

Kyle _never,_ in the history of, like, ever, ignored the chance for rebuttal when I baited his mother out.

That was fucking bewildering.

“You’re acting weird.” I told him. “Why?”

“Wow, Cartman...” Kyle shook his head disbelievingly, still smiling.

I perked up instantly.

“What?” I implored, dying to know what he was thinking.

“Oh, nothing.” Kyle chuckled mysteriously, walking away from me

“Kahl, don’t you ‘nothing’ me, you Jew!” I called out after him, but he went out and slammed the front door behind him.

And I was left alone in the living room.

Determined to find out what made my enemy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people! I have risen from the dead and returned with this.
> 
> What did you think?  
> Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think I did pretty good on the characterisation this chapter, but if you do disagree, please tell me.  
> I'm guessing most of you already know what episode I'm alluding to with the blanket theme, but if you don't, I suggest watching South Park season 16 episode 4.


	12. This ain't no place for no hero

Needless to say, when mother did finally return home, she was less than pleased. I was lying on the sofa comfortably, crunching on my fourth or fifth packet of Doritos. Chilli heatwave, of course. I licked my fingers one by one as she talked.

“Eric! Why did I get a call from the principal about some kind of unauthorised absence?” Mom scolded.

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t go to school today?” I answered, eyes still glued to the TV.

She proceeded to walk right in front of it and stand there.

“HEY!”

“Poopsikins I’m sorry, but I’m talking to you, and that means I need your full attention.” Mom said, already losing her strict tone of voice. “This is important.”

I tried desperately to crane my neck so that I was able to see, but alas, the TV in this house was too damn small. Unwillingly, I turned down the volume and looked at her.

Mom was smiling triumphantly, as if she just won some kind of major dominance battle against me. She corrected herself to stand just that little bit straighter, chest just a little more forward. Jesus, was getting me to even listen to her an achievement? Well, joke’s on her, there was nothing good to watch on TV anyway.

“Thank you so much, Poopsie. But that doesn’t mean I’m any less angry at you. You can’t just play truant. That’s naughty behaviour. Bad Eric!”

Jesus fucking Christ, last time I checked, I wasn’t a fucking dog. I’d do whatever I want, whenever I want and no-one was going to fucking stop me from doing so. In fact, I was tempted to ditch school tomorrow as well, just for the sake of pissing her off.

“Shut the fuck up, Mom. I do what I want.” I stated, whipping out my phone from my pocket and swiping through some e-mails. If I couldn’t watch anything on television, I could at least ignore her in a different way.

Her confident pose drooped and she went back to her usual self. “Please Poopsikins, don’t do this again. I thought you and Dr. Marlen worked through your social anxiety. Do you want me to book you another visit with him? Would that make you feel better, hun? Eric, please answer me.”

Yours Truly made it a point to ignore her.

“Okay Poopsikins, I understand. If you don’t want to talk to me, then you can talk to him instead. He is a professional, after all. Though your last visit was kind of cut short, you barely spent fifteen minutes there. You don’t need to worry about Mommy not having enough money to pay for your full hour of therapy. Mommy has a way to figure things out.” She observed my total lack of interest in everything she just said before giving up. “Just know that Mommy loves you, alright hun?”

“Mhmm, sure you do.”

She walked away, defeated.

I scrunched up the empty packet of Doritos and threw it across the room, just for fun, before heaving myself up, wiping off any crumbs left on my shirt and headed out the door. After a whole day of hangover binging, I could at least try to make an effort to work out. Not that I necessarily cared what I looked like, because I sure as shit wasn’t going to turn into some kind of anorexic Annie any time soon, but because kickboxing sessions came in handy.

And who knew the next time I would need to use my fists?

The trudge to City Wok was painful, the workout even more so. Lu Kim seemed fucking horribly sadistic as of late, and decided to triple the amount of work we needed to do. Kenny and I barely spoke throughout, the only time being when he ran out of water and snatched my bottle out of my hands and gulping out the sweet, sweet liquid before I could process what the fuck that bastard was doing. I don’t think I need to mention that he got triple the ass-whooping that he usually got from me. Unfortunately, that meant vice versa. I flinched multiple times when he kicked me; absolutely positive that I was going to end up with bruises. Oh well, that was the small price I had to pay. As well as the tickets, of course. Poor broke-ass Kenny was still leeching off of me. But some things in South Park never changed.

After the hour and a half of torture finally ended, me and Kenny walked out. I, for one, was grateful that it was finally over, and was definitely ready to head back home. However, Kenny seemed to have other plans. He dragged me in the opposite direction.

“Where the fuck are you going? Home is over myah.”

“We’re taking a detour.” Kenny announced out of the blue.

I laughed. “You can go ahead and do that. Screw you Kinny, I’m going home.”

“No you’re not. You’re coming with me.”

And his statement was final.

Despite my many struggles and loud protest, I was dragged along into the woods, where the leaves crunched beneath us and the atmosphere turned sombre yet with an air of mystique. Creatures of the night roamed freely, their howls were heard, yet they themselves not visible. There was scarce any sky left to see amongst the thicket, and even that was dark, not a star to illuminate the shadows. By that time, I was less inclined to walk away alone. That shit was fucking scary. There was no way in hell I was gonna let go of Kenny now.

“So...” I started, pausing to listen to an owl hoot. “What the fuck do you need me for?”

Kenny sighed.

“Well, I haven’t got all fucking night, you know!” I barked, the sound of my words just a little too loud for the otherwise silent forest. It made me shudder. But in case anyone ever asked, I was cold.

Kenny took a deep breath.

“Cartman, answer me honestly. Do you have feelings? Any, at all?”Kenny questioned, strolling along, hands in his pockets. I could only guess from his relaxed composure that he was like that on the inside too. Or, at least trying to be.

“Yeah? No? I can’t decide.” I replied truthfully. “You ask really fucking stupid questions, Kinny. Fucking therapist wannabe.”

“You know that that type of answer could be seen as sociopathic, right?” Kenny accused. Or, merely stated. But it seemed to me that his words were accusatory.

I shrugged my shoulders. Neither denying nor accepting his statement.

“Okay, I see how it is. Just ignore me then. As I’m supposed to be a so called ‘friend’ to your fat ass, then I want a favour from you.” Kenny continued.

“Mhm, I would _love_ to do anything I possibly could for you. After all, I’m a sociopath with no feelings, so surely I’m required to answer to your entitled expectations.”

Kenny slowed down until we came to a grinding halt. He turned to me, serious and still. Nocturnal creatures scurried and scattered in the distance, but he kept my attention.

“Firstly, stop twisting my words, that’s not what I said. And secondly, I want you to stop fucking around with Heidi.” Kenny demanded. “I’m not usually the one to pry into people’s business, but I do have a moral compass, Cartman.”

“So what?”

It stumped Kenny for a moment, yet the answer seemed obvious to me.

 The universe wasn’t built for nice people; in fact, the opposite was true. The world was created to conquer. Nice people were born to bend over backwards to their superior’s demands. And that meant asserting oneself to be at the very top of the chain. So why would anyone need a moral compass? If anything, it came as a disadvantage.

I honestly wanted to laugh at the pathetic weaklings who claimed that being nice to one another was the answer. This ain’t no place for no hero.

“So..? Your actions have consequences, Cartman.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I congratulated Kenny on his astounding observation.

“Fuck off, Watson.”

Kenny exhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead, deep in thought for a long moment. “How do I explain this to you?”

“If it’s that hard, then  –newsflash– don’t? I really can’t be fucking bothered to care.” I said, sitting down on a nearby tree stump. It was damp and uncomfortable, but it beat having to stand up for Kenny’s oncoming lecture.

“You like Stan. You do, don’t you?” Kenny said, completely changing the topic for some godforsaken reason.

“Yeah, I guess. He’s kind of an asshole, but kewl enough.” I replied. “Where are you going with this random train of thought, Kinny?”

Kenny ignored the second part. “What if I told you he wasn’t feeling too good lately?”

“I wouldn’t give two shi–”

“But if you did?” Kenny interjected. “If you did, wouldn’t you want to know why?”

“As if, Kinny! It’s easy enough to guess that Wendy would be behind his seasonal depression. And, if by some miracle, not her, then a fight with his friend or something equally as petty as that.” I countered. “So, no, I wouldn’t care to know why.”

“Fuck.” Kenny groaned. “Sometimes I forget how much of a smartass you really are.”

“Wow, what a compliment.” I said, rolling my eyes. “Is Stan really depressed again, or was that just an example?”

“I thought you said you didn’t care.” Kenny objected.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know enough for a chance to exploit it.” I answered.

Kenny quirked an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

“If he’s depressed, then I’m guessing there’s a ninety nine percent chance Wendy dumped him. And that means I get to rip on her without him white-knighting all over the fucking place.” I looked up at his less-than-amused face. “So, Kinny, am I right or am I right?”

“Arrogant fucker.” Kenny muttered disapprovingly.

Knew it!

“But that doesn’t change the fact that Heidi was looking really crestfallen today.” He announced, determined to not be beaten. “Not that you were in school to notice. Or Bebe.”

“Me and Heidi aren’t together, poor boy. What I do is none of her fucking business. And I have never heard of a ‘Bebe’ in my entire life.”

“Strange..” Kenny spat suddenly. “You seemed to be perfectly fine working with such a mystical, unheard of being in Philosophy; according to Stan, at least.”

“Stan doesn’t know shit! It was just the project!” I clipped harshly.

“Oh really? Well, he must’ve been seriously mistaken in that case, because he was droning on about how you could fucking fly from one girl to another while the love of his life was ripped away from him.”  Kenny retorted. “It seemed like you and Bebe were getting like a house on fire.”

“Why am I even fucking engaging in this?” I stood up and wiped the back of my legs. “I don’t see the need to care about Heidi. She’s a bitch, and a cunt, and my ex.”

“But she didn’t deserve to be treated in that way that you treated her!” Kenny protested, squaring up to me. “You don’t get it, do you, you selfish piece of shit? She looked fucking _traumatised_ when Butters and I saw her! Almost like she was dead inside!”

“Well that’s not my fucking fault! I didn’t do shit to her!”

“You better not have done.” Kenny threatened ominously. “I swear to God, Cartman, if I find out what happened to her, and, if you were in any way involved in it, I’m going to make sure you don’t live to see the day.”

The wind blew, rustling the leaves above us. However, the night didn’t seem nearly as intimidating now, in comparison to what I was facing up against. Then again, I had a short fuse and no filter. Even when it came to Kenny, my supposed best friend forever.

“You’re a fucking vigilante hero wannabe, aren’t you, _KINNY_ ?” I exploded, stepping up to him. “Don’t have anyone to save anymore so you’re going after Heidi. How fucking retarded is that? We’re not children anymore, you’re not Mysterion, and I’m not the Coon! You need to find a different way to show your jealousy other than making me the bad guy. It’s not my fault I’m scoring more chicks than you. That’s the real reason you keep stepping on my ass about her! If you want to bang my sloppy seconds so hard, then fucking go for it, you manwhore.”

I must’ve struck a nerve.

I didn’t know which part affected him most, but I must say, my words were pretty damn effective.

Kenny’s face distorted as if I had actually hit him.

“Are you even hearing yourself, fatass? You’re guilty for all of the things you just said! I tried being patient with you, listening to your childish problems, offering advice, but you just won’t learn! Even your stupid name-calling proves you’re less mature than me. You’re so fucking deluded you don’t even realise other people have emotions!” Kenny shouted, thoroughly agitated. “No, it’s always about you! It’s always the same thing. Me! Me! Me! My story, my point of view, my victimhood! I know if you had a TV show, you’d somehow manage to twist it to be all about you too! And you think that I’m a whore? Cartman, I don’t know how to break it to you, but it’s your mother you should be calling out for that.”

That was a low blow.

“Fuck you, Kenny! Are you suggesting I’m selfish? At least I’m not the one that had to find himself a sugar daddy to pay for some kickboxing lessons! Have fun working in some shitty Wal-Mart to pay for them yourself.” I ranted. “Maybe you barely get a say in anything because you lack a personality? There’s nothing special about you! Just have Butters suck your balls already and then get the fuck out of this town. That’s all people basically want from you anyway. For you and your methhead broke ass parents to stop devaluing the poor-people area! Do you wanna know why? It’s because you’re going to turn out to be exactly like them, no matter how much of a hero you pretend to be!”

My fists were clenched so hard they were trembling. Hateful words flowed out of my mouth like tar, leaving a sweet honey aftertaste in their wake. I was just waiting for Kenny’s rebuttal. Just waiting for his snarky comment; I could rightfully hit him then.

Kenny was just as mad as me, it seemed. He was rigid, hands up, ready to hold his guard, and fight back. We were in kind of a falling quicksand– neither of us were focusing on getting out of it, but in pushing the other deeper in.

“Sometimes it’s almost like you _want_ people to abuse you!” Kenny declared. “You’re a narcissistic, egocentric, sociopathic, vengeful, insecure fucking wimp!

“Is that all? I could’ve helped you add many more labels.” I scoffed bitterly. “Those words mean nothing to me, Kinny, I’ve heard it all before.”

“Then let me tell you something you probably haven’t.” Kenny snarled, taking a step towards me. “Let me tell you, for someone who claims they’re so smart, you’re shockingly stupid. You can’t face facts even when they’re staring right at your face. And that’s not even the most surprising part! The part that shocks me is how little regard you hold for anyone who you don’t feel like toying around with anymore. Butters, Me, Heidi, even your own fucking half-brother – Your own _brother_ – we’re all part of your sick little collection, aren’t we? We’re not the only ticks on your checklist though, not the only ones in Cartman’s –been there, done that club. I’m positive Bebe’s going to come join us real soon. Come on, tell me what I’m saying so far is not true, I fucking dare you.”

I stayed silent, glaring daggers at him.

I was seeing red.

I was feeling red.

Everything was red.

Kenny continued.“And that’s the oh-so-horrible reason you can’t handle any kind of positive relationship with anyone. You push people away, threaten them with a pitchfork if they dare so much as lend a hand, and then wonder why you’re a loner! Can you not see that?”

My blood was well past boiling point. It was a shocker I didn’t knock Kenny out already. But there was a sinister sound to his words that rooted me to the spot. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. And I really wanted to move. To do something. To fight, to flee, anything! Anything was better than listening to Kenny, because with every word he spoke, I seemed to gained a new knife-wound in my chest.

“I have nothing left to say to you.” Kenny seethed, turning on his heel and sauntering off into the darkness.

I couldn’t– I couldn’t fucking breathe.

Hyperventilating, I sat down on the dirty woodland floor, focusing on regulating my heartbeat. Kenny was just saying that to get a rise out of me. He was just lying. My quickened heart rate was only due to the fact that adrenaline was pumping through my bloodstream as well. And that was before Kenny attempted to ‘enlighten’ me with his load of bullshit. Because what he said was untrue. Very, very untrue. I could face facts, God damn it! I was not a loner! Kenny was abusing me like his parents do to eachother. I was the victim of his mistreatment. Obviously it was because I didn’t buy him a water bottle. Greedy ass poor-boy.

After a little while, I finally released myself from that weird trance-like state. I could react normally, thank fuck. But, I was also left alone in the woods. At night.

Fucking lovely.

I decided to retrace our footsteps, and after a couple hundred wrong turns and a dozen of mistaken signs, I found myself with good news and bad news.

The good news being I was finally approaching the residential area of South Park, judging by the streetlamps and outlines of houses.

On the other side of town.

Fuuckk.

It took me a long-ass while to get back to my house, even with cutting through people’s backyards and using back alleyways to get there faster.

When I finally reached home, I clambered in through my bedroom window, shimmying off my clothes and changing straight into my pyjamas. Once I crept into the bathroom and washed myself, I returned, utterly exhausted, and threw myself into my bed.

It was well into the night, to say the least, and I was ready for slumber. I dimmed the lights, so that only the little lamp beside my bed illuminated my room, and sank down, ready to sleep.

About to reach out to turn the lamp off, I heard my door creak open.

“Hey baby, you ready for some fun?” A hoarse voice breathed.

I sat up.

A dude of about fifty, tall, twiggy and spindly, stopped his sly grin as soon as he saw my face. He was leaning against the doorframe confidently, but that dwindled when he realised I wasn’t his object of desire.

“Wrong room.” I spat. “Two doors down, on the right.”

Abashedly, he closed the door to my room and retreated. I heard the same hoarse voice repeat that line in my mother’s room, then I shoved two pillows against my ears, determined to not hear any more.

At least it wasn’t one of her regulars.

I didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened if it was one of them at the door.

Instead, I redirected my thoughts; something more positive.

My arms were straight in my peripheral vision, and I focused on the faded white scars on my forearms.

I missed Mr Kitty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm calling this one The chapter in which Cartman gets hit with a sharp dose of reality. 
> 
> What did you think? Who won the argument? I'm sorry this isn't a Kahl- centered chapter, but my man Kenny needs screentime too. And Stan. I tried making improvements, so hopefully there's less 'info dumping' taking place, but I don't know for sure.
> 
> Please do give me feedback in the comments; it really keeps me happy and motivated. If there's anything you'd like to address, criticisms or any glaring inconsistencies, do tell me!


	13. High school never ends

The next morning was shit. As usual. I didn’t get much sleep; not even pillows could cover up the fake moans of my mother and the wheezy hiccoughing of her customer of the night. The walls between our bedrooms weren’t that thick, and that made it all the worse.

My fitful sleep was also plagued with distorted dreams and visions, none of which fit together to make any sense, but just coincided, merging into one nightmare-like coma. As soon as I woke up, the dream dispersed, and I couldn’t remember any of it, apart from the fact that I knew it was fucked up... somehow.

It was early morning. There were birds a plenty outside, chirping merrily. I wanted to start chucking shit at them, they were disturbing my sleep. Not that I was going to get much more anyway. I checked the time on my phone, the screen light blinding me for a good couple minutes. I still had a good half-hour until my alarm rang. Basically, I tossed and turned for what seemed like ages until I heard the familiar tinkle of my phone ringing, with the ‘alarm’ notification.

I dragged myself out of bed, not truly feeling how exhausted I was until gravity pulled me down by my feet. I let out a dissatisfied grunt. Oh fuck.

This was going to be a long day.

To my surprise, mom was up before me, frying up some eggs and a shitload of bacon. I didn’t even hear her go downstairs. Weird. Not that I was complaining. Sighing, I sat down at the table as she hummed contentedly, fixing up the food on my plate.

“’Morning Poopsikins!” Mom beamed, serving me a steaming hot plate of breakfast.

She seemed oddly chirpy, didn’t she now?

Strange, but whatever.

I grabbed at my fork and started prodding at my food, not awake enough yet to actually start shovelling it into my mouth. That, and I didn’t want to burn the fuck out of my insides.

“Poopsie, come on, eat up! You’ve gotten so skinny these days, just look at you!” Mom prompted, scrubbing some dishes jovially. “I’m not used to seeing you without a little more meat on your bones.”

That’s a mother for you. I started eating despite the literal temperature of hell scorching the inside of my cheeks. Another couple of mouthfuls and I decided that it was enough for me. The plate squeaked against the table as I pushed it away from me like a child that was told they had to eat broccoli. Still, I didn’t blame the children for doing so, have you ever tasted that shit? It’s fucking disgusting.

Mom reappeared by my side, looking dismayed. “Oh no, Poopsikins! Are you feeling sick?”

She placed a kiss on my forehead.

I shuddered at her lips touching any part of my skin.

Who knew where those same lips were last night?

It made me feel revolted.

“Well, you don’t seem to have a temperature, sweetie. How are you feeling? You’re awfully quiet this morning, aren’t you?” Mom fretted, bustling around me. “And look at this plate, you hardly touched your breakfast! This is just not like you at all, Poopsikins!”

I scrunched up my face, wiping her wet spit off my forehead.

Fucking gross.

“I’m fine.”

Because I was. After all, sixteen years of witnessing my mother engage in some of the most fucked up fetishes really toughened me up. Yet another reason why I disliked porn. Especially the German websites. The mere thought of that one video gave me discomfort.

Mom didn’t seem worried for too much longer, returning to her mildly concerning oblivious state of joy from just moments before. Without saying another word, I got myself dressed and headed out the door.

“Bye Snookums!” She waved me off, singing herself a tune.

Okay then..

It may come as a surprise to some, but it was fucking freezing on the way to school. Large flakes of snow drifted about, and I waded my way through the snow covering the streets until I reached school. Like, a shit ton more than usual. And I mean, a ton. If it kept up that way, we’d be at home before third period. That would be so kewl.

I checked the weather forecast on my phone, and sure as shit, there was a ninety percent chance that it would snow even fucking harder. People around me in the halls were also catching up, cheering and shoving any unnecessary textbooks back in their lockers. Some crazy fucks were causing mayhem, dancing around and yelling. I joined them. Because why the fuck not? No skewl for much longer, suckers!

The atmosphere chilled when I went to homeroom. Kenny was sat at his desk already, which was a fucking shock in itself, but it meant I was going to be the awkward latecomer.

Aww fuck.

Kenny gave me that bitchy judgemental side-eye glance as I sat down, but otherwise he ignored me. Luckily, Mr Asshole homeroom teacher was in a good mood as well (I presumed he also came to the same conclusion that the rest of us), so I just whipped out my phone and played some games without being worried about repercussions; making sure to not look up and check what Kenny was doing like I usually would’ve done.

Somehow, I made it through homeroom in one piece. That was a nice surprise. Certainly made for a change; I was sick of everyone’s nagging. Next class was English. I sat in the back of the class, minding my own business, when Bebe walked in.

I smiled at her and made a miniature wave of my hand.

She shot me a dirty look.

It was nothing short of rude, but I guessed that was the aim of it. Why did Bebe do that? I had no fucking idea. Not a fucking clue! Bemused, I watched her grab a chair and sit next to the one and only Heidi. Heidi barely glanced up, her greasy hair making for an effective shroud. I observed that her face was sickly yellow, with spots and pimples on her forehead. She looked like she hadn’t washed herself for days; there were still greyish streaks of mascara on her cheeks, and dark panda rings under her eyes. Bebe held her shoulder and whispered something in her ear.

 Now, if there’s one thing I know for sure is that mixing a sadistic ex and a girl that was angry about me about _something_ was a bad idea. But I couldn’t intervene. Our teacher for English, an old Mexican fucker (with a fucking indiscernible accent, may I add) was already droning on about Animal Farm and how communism was, in fact, a good thing.

I felt Bebe’s glare on me throughout the entire lesson. I tried ignoring it, however it didn’t change the fact that it was still there. If only I knew what the fuck Bebe was mad about, I could go up to her after class and sweet talk my way out of it. But there’s no use apologising when I didn’t know what I did wrong.

Three quarters through the lesson, the beloved announcements came, in the form of some freshman knocking on the door and telling us personally that we were free to go home after this class.

A huge mayhem erupted.

Yeah, people hated South Park High school _that_ much. The last fifteen minutes of the lesson were spent by the teacher trying to get the spastic kids to stop jumping on top of the desks while the rest of us waited for the bell. Of course, all while enjoying the scene of the teacher swearing in some language as the class was getting demolished. But before I get judgement, I helped do my duty. I kicked over the trash can and sent a couple textbooks flying. One even hit Heidi straight in the face, but she didn’t seem to notice- much too focused on staring at the floor. I still laughed.

High school never ends.

Finally, the awaited moment came, and the class became a bloodbath. The doorframe was nearly ripped apart as people shoved, pushed and kicked through. Mr Mexican teacher didn’t even attempt to stop the rampage anymore, just leaned against the wall, waiting it out.

I was one of the few lucky ones that made it out alive and relatively unscathed.

On my way out of the bustling hallways, and out the school’s exit, I noticed Stan round near the bramble hedge, a little way over to the right. Now, I usually wouldn’t of given two shits and carried on my merry way, but he was shivering on his knees, snow well up his thighs, as he desperately shoved his hand in the bushes.

Looking for something.

I decided to be a good sport and laugh at his stupidity before going home. When I walked up to him, I gently kicked his rear end, and he fell forward, just barely managing to catch himself in time and push himself back up. I guessed all that time spent doing press ups was good for something after all.

“What the fuck!” Stan yelped, turning around.

“School’s over, jock, no need to show your ass off to your fellow team members. I’m sure the coach would enjoy the view if only he were here, though.” I snickered.

“Shut up, Cartman.” Stan growled. He reached further in the bushes. “Ow, fuck!”

Quickly, Stan pulled his hand back. There were many small scratches and thorns in his coat, with two long perpendicular streaks cutting through his cuff and down the top of his hand. Stan wiped the blood off and reached in again.

“What the hell are you even looking for? Your will to live after Wendy dumped you?” I taunted. “Self-harming yourself with a bush is kind of low, you know that, Stan?”

Stan groaned in either pain or exasperation. It was probably a bit of both. “I’m not looking for anything, Cartman. I’m trying to save some kind of animal that’s stuck in the bushes. If I don’t do anything, it’ll either freeze to death or get a deadly infection from the open wounds. It’s bleeding everywhere.”

“Pff!” I scorned, taking a couple steps back, ready to leave the lunatic activist Stan alone. “Let it die, you hippie. That’s the way nature intended for things to go. It’s probably some shitty possum or squirrel or something. There’s plenty enough of those pests to go around.”

“No, it’s not either of those.” He protested, peering amongst the leaves.

I was just turning around on my heel, about to walk off when Stan spoke again:

“I think... It looks like a kitten.”

Suddenly, I found myself on my knees, next to him.

Snow seeped through my trousers as I leaned forward, attempting to get a closer look for myself. Stan was right. Amongst the leaves and brambles was a small ginger ball of fluff, mewing piteously. It was the tiniest thing, skin and bones, yet it was surprisingly loud, even when so weak and frail. Its left paw was embedded in a thorn, and the rest of its body was also scratched and scraped raw, tangled amidst the branches. Standing in a pool of its own blood, the brave little creature whined in pain.

Without thinking, I dove forward, scratching my face, coat and hands in the process, desperate to get closer to it. I was nearly poked in the eye twice, but I made it relatively near.

“Careful, Cartman!” Stan hollered from behind me. “It’s really defensive!”

I wanted to respond with something, but that meant I would’ve had to shout back at him, and the little moppet in front of me was scared enough as was. I mean, no shit, the kitten was probably going to try and resist, what did he expect? Gently, I nudged my hand next to it, so that it could smell me. The kitten did, curiously examining my scent. After a moment, I pulled my hand slightly back, and saw it blink slowly. It was a good sign- that meant it trusted me. That, or it was accepting its’ death. Either one was plausible. Dearly hoping that it was the latter, I reached slowly and carefully, getting the creature out of the knotted mess it was in. Usually, I was a horribly impatient person, and would absolutely say ‘fuck it! I’m going without.’ if I ever had to untangle earphones, but this was something different entirely. This was a living, breathing creature that I was inexplicably determined to save, no matter the cost.

The long, arduous process took me ages; I was impeccably focused throughout, making sure to cause the little kitten the least amount of discomfort I could. Luckily, it understood that I was trying to help, quietening down and patiently waiting for me to finish. By then, the bottom half of my body was covered in wetness; I was positive that my balls turned into popsicles throughout the procedure. The final thing to do was remove the thorn from its paws. It was totally impromptu, and I knew that I could fuck up the little furball’s entire leg, but it was the only way. The kitten froze up when I touched its’ paw, but only yowled when I removed the interfering object.

After, it stared into my eyes.

It trusted me.

I reached out my palm and it limped into my embrace as I took it out of the branchy prison

“You did it!” Stan cheered, awestruck, clapping me on the back.

“Yeah, I did.” I spoke softly, holding the kitten closer to me as it shivered. “We need to take it home and get it all cleaned up. There’s no need to drive three hours to the nearest vet when we can do it faster and much more effectively at your place.”

Stan didn’t protest, so we rushed over back to his house, me holding the kitten against my chest and Stan rushing forward, scrambling to get his house keys out.

I bothered only to take off my shoes as I went in. Stan grabbed a history notebook out of his bag and placed it on the kitchen table as an emergency soft bed thing, sprinting upstairs, whilst I delicately put the kitten on it. Blood seeped through the pages, ruining all of Stan’s neat, cursive notes. I never knew Stan could write in cursive. Eh, whatever.

 The kitten lay on its’ back, relaxing slightly as I used the spare moment to take off my coat and shove it out of the way. I sat next to the little creature, stroking its’ thin, matted fur as it licked at the wounds. Clumps of orange came out as I raked my fingers through. Though it wasn’t a shock, it was still unpleasant to see the malnourished critter in such a decaying state of health.

“Okay, I got some disinfectant.” Stan panted, using some peroxide to wet the cotton balls.

He reached over to start wiping at the kitten. It hissed after the first stroke, but clueless Stan clearly didn’t understand what that meant in cat language, so it bit Stan after the second. Hard.

“Ow!” Stan whined, shaking his hand. “Cartman, help me out here.”

I snatched the cotton ball from his grasp and attempted to clean the kitten myself. Carefully, I pressed the disinfectant to its’ body. The kitten shook all over and mewed pathetically as I soothed it, stroking its’ back. This went on until all the wounds were cleaned out thoroughly.

“Do you think its temperature is normal now, or should we wait a little longer until we feed it?” Stan asked, keeping all limbs away from the kitten.

I cupped my hands around it. The temperature  seemed normal. “I think we’re good. But do you have any kitten formula?”

“Can’t dog wet food work as a substitute?” He proposed.

“Of course not!” I huffed. “You’re obviously don’t know shit about cats. This little guy is only about three weeks old. He needs formula; unless you want to kill him with Sparky’s food, then go right ahead.”

“I don’t have kitten formula!” Stan worried.

“Then make some.” I racked my brains for how Mom and I made kitten formula for Mr Kitty when he first came to live with us. It was such a long time ago. “Uhh... Three- no! Two egg yolks, and eight -I think it was eight- ounces of whole milk. Mix that together with a teaspoon of oil, and heat it up. If you have some plain porridge oats, add about four to five tablespoons and cook until they’re done. His fluffiness needs some extra carbs, he’s too thin, aren’t you, my tiny chomper?”

I stroked the kitten, and despite the uncomfortable situation, it rested against my open palm.

“How did you find it in the first place?” I asked, watching the feline nestle into me.

Stan stirred the mixture. “I was feeling kind of shitty and hopeless –”

“I wonder why...” I jeered sarcastically. “Let me guess, Wendy?”

“Yeah, Wendy.” Stan admitted with a sigh. “So I decided to skip second period and head straight home. As I was walking, I heard mewling, and so I scrambled around until I found the source. It just looked so lost and I knew I had to help it. Wait, what sex is it?”

I lifted up the kitten’s tail. It seemed a little annoyed, making a small yowl as I checked.

“It’s a she.” I announced.

“Well, what are we going to do with her, then?” Stan questioned, transferring the steaming hot makeshift formula onto a small plate, heading up to the table and sitting down next to me. He looked at me funny, then smacked himself on the forehead. “Oh shit! Sorry dude, totally forgot.”

Stan ran upstairs and returned with some sweatpants and a towel. He threw the largest sweatpants he owned at me as I stood up and changed, he wiped my seat dry. They hung surprisingly loose on me.

I forgot all about my discomfort when I was caring for the kitten, not even noticing that I was freezing my wet ass off. Nice that Stan actually cared.

“It’s fine.” I stated, sitting back down. The kitten was awake and alarmed at my absence, calming once more when I pet her.

“Aren’t female cats supposed to be less friendly than their male counterparts?” Stan enquired, amazed at how she was reacting.

“Yeah, they usually are. But she obviously likes me.” I replied, taking a bit of the wet goop on my finger. It cooled down a little, so I figured it was good to eat. Gently, I nudged the kitten until she reached the plate and began absolutely devouring the food. “I think I’m going to have to keep her.”

Stan grinned. “Hell yeah! Another stray pet finds an owner!”

“Aren’t you worried that I’m going to abuse the little thing?” I asked.

“No way, dude. Look at you, so damn pussy whipped you spent half an hour getting her out of the snow.” Stan laughed. “And the absolutely offended face you made when I suggested dog food says that there’s no chance in hell you’d treat her badly.”

“God damn it!” I joined in his laughter. “You figured me out.”

“Besides,” Stan said. “You’re much nicer to cats than you are to humans. No idea why, but you are.”

“That’s because cats can keep secrets.” I responded ominously.

“So, what are you going to name her?”

I thought about it. What could I name an orange kitten? Whiskers was basic, I already had a Mr Kitty, Fluffy just reminded me of that pig I used to own, Snuffles just didn’t suit her. I thought harder. Root Beer was too long of a name, Carrot was a rude name to call a majestic feline.

Something majestic. And something powerful. After all, she endured many hardships at only three weeks old. That sparked an idea. There was one person in the world who was majestic, powerful and really determined as well.

“Her name will be Fuhrer.” I declared.

“Oh my God, Cartman, you can’t name her that!” Stan disagreed pointedly.

“Why the hell not? It’s not like a name is going to do any harm to anybody.”

Stan shook his head. He wasn’t going to win this battle and he knew it. “Fine, just for fuck’s sake don’t let Kyle hear it.”

Footsteps approached behind Stan.

“Don’t let Kyle hear what?” Kyle quizzed suspiciously, walking in the room.

“Hey dude.” Stan tried to appear cool and collected, but he was obviously visibly startled.“Nothing, just, nothing. How did you get in?”

“We were supposed to meet up to finish that philosophy thing. You didn’t lock the front door, so I let myself inside.” Kyle stated, grabbing himself a chair to join us. “And it seems at just the right moment, too.”

Stan gulped.

I held back a snort.

 “Cartman, are you going to be honest and tell me straight away or am I going to have to beat your ass before you tell me?” Kyle half-joked.

He turned to look at what was at the table.

“Oh My... Stan!” Kyle accused, looking down at what was on it.

“Kyle, Kyle, dude, chill out!” Stan panicked. “It’s fine! I promise!”

“No it’s not!” Kyle complained. “My notes!”

I looked at the notebook Fuhrer was currently laying on. The pages looked beyond repair.

I could barely hold back laughter. Oh my fucking god, it would be absolutely hilarious to tell him that Fuhrer ruined his history.

“This is not fucking funny, Cartman!” Kyle screeched, swiping the notebook from Fuhrer’s frail body. Luckily, her jaw was in much better working condition. She bit Kyle’s finger with all her might.

“Fucking hell!” Kyle’s face twisted in pain as he cursed.

Fuhrer got the Jew good.

How wonderfully ironic.

“What is that mangled stray even doing here?” Kyle spat.

Fuhrer hissed back, displeased with Kyle’s tone.

“Hey!” I corrected. “It’s not a stray. She’s mine.”

“Then no fucking wonder it’s aggressive. That thing probably has fleas! It’s disgusting.” Kyle whined.

“Kyle, I know you’re not an animal lover, but can you not jump to conclusions, please?” Stan pleaded.

“It made my notes all bloody and unreadable! Of course I’m going to jump to conclusions!” the Jew protested.

“Dude, it’s a she. She was rescued this morning by Cartman and me. And she hasn’t got fleas, I promise. As a living creature, she deserves a little more respect, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t fucking think it deserves any respect after it just attacked me! It deserves to be put down!”

“Kahl, this is a cat we’re talking about.” I retaliated. “Get that in your head. And it’s a she, how many more times do we need to tell you that?”

“Well, does _she_ have a name?” Kyle asked.

Stan and I glanced at eachother, then back at Kyle.

This was about to get good.

Real fucking fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who has two thumbs and is a totally lazy author who can't be bothered to upload sooner?   
> Me!
> 
> What did you think? I'm guessing there's not much to say about this chapter, mainly because it's a little more lighthearted than the rest, but still. I'm interested to know whether you liked it!
> 
> Please do comment, I can't stress enough how much each comment, even if only a sentence or two, means to me.


	14. Painkiller

How does one explain to a devout Jew that they named their pet after one of the greatest people on earth? And how does one explain to said Jew that the person is still fucking kewl despite the fact that they may or may not have allegedly tried to commit genocide against their religion?

I had no fucking idea.

Fuhrer meowed.

Stan shot me a glance, which I whole heartedly returned.

After spending practically our whole lives with eachother, we more or less could communicate non-verbally using gestures and actions.

Stan’s slightly quirked eyebrow told me all I needed to know.

Fucking asshole.

My responding glare basically summed up my thoughts at the moment.

Fuck you too, then.

“Well?” Kyle questioned, a little concerned.

The bad thing about this type of shit was that all of us knew the implications of our body languages. That was fucking awkward to navigate, as I couldn’t express to Stan my full anger without Kyle getting too suspicious.

Not that he wasn’t already.

Awkward silence.

“Well?” Kyle ordered, crossing his arms over his chest, looking at each of us in turn, sparing a particularly nasty scorn for little Fuhrer.

Fuck. He knew something was wrong already. But there was absolutely no fucking way in hell I’d give up her name. No force was strong enough to prevent me from calling her Fuhrer.

Another moment of silence.

And another.

The tension in the air was palpable. But not in a good way. Anyone who could’ve walked into this room would’ve thought it was a tableau of some sort. All four of us were motionless, yet it cost me more energy to stay still than to go out and fight.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, that moment was broken by the Jew himself.

Kyle slammed his palms on the table, leaning over to scrutinize me. Someone was getting impatient. Fuhrer climbed up wrist and nestled herself on my forearm, yawning. But a Jew would never appreciate little Fuhrer’s cuteness.

“I won’t ask again.” Kyle snarled.

“Then don’t.” I replied nonchalantly.

Kyle turned to his bestie for fucking ever and ever.

“Stan?” Kyle ordered, the demand thinly veiled by a question.

“Not my cat, dude. I’m taking no part in this conversation.”

Kyle exhaled. “Cartman it is, then.”

He rolled his eyes as he returned to interrogating me. I stroked Fuhrer casually, determined to keep my cool.

“Cartman...”Kyle started, voice serious. “What is that cat’s name?”

“Keep your goddamn Jew nose out of my fucking business, Kahl.” I said, the tiniest edge of anger tracing my words.

Kyle turned red, opened his mouth-

Stan stood up.

“Here we go again.” Stan muttered like a disappointed parent. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

Yeah, I’d also be pretty annoyed if I were him. Sixteen years of Kyle’s bullshit really gets to a guy.

Stan headed upstairs, shaking his head in discontent, already anticipating what was going to happen and resolving to not get involved. Only shame was that I couldn’t get out of that confrontation like he did.

“I’m in my room, doing that philosophy project thing,” Stan announced, turning his head to check if we haven’t started to hit eachother just yet. “In case one of you actually survive whatever _this_ is going to become; I’m not helping bury the other’s body. Just so you know.”

Kyle and I sat, silent, still, until all of Stan disappeared and we heard his bedroom door slam shut. Fucking Stan, god damn it!

He just made my case for Fuhrer, like, nein times worse, if not ten.

The soon to be very offended Jew looked at me scrupulously, and continued with his original thought as if Stan didn’t just interrupt.

“No! Obviously it is my fucking business too. It’s always my business when you fuck something up, because I’m the one having to fix it!” Kyle retorted.

“Well that’s because you can never just leave me alone, can you?”

“Not when you’re trying to do evil misdeeds, I can’t!”

“Martyr complex, much?” I taunted.

Kyle slammed a fist down on the table, startling my Fuhrer awake. She hissed, in clear agreement with me, that Jews fucking sucked ass.

“Firstly, fuck you, you fucking racist stereotyping douchebag.” Kyle fumed. “Secondly, call me what you will, I don’t care-”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really!” Kyle snapped. “Thirdly, don’t fucking interrupt m-”

“Shut the fuck up Kahl!” I snapped as he renewed his preachment with more vigour.

I blurred out the rest of his bitchy rambling.

Kyle didn’t care what I called him? Well there was only one way to test this wildly unbelievable claim out. Time to prove to Kyle that he, as a Jew, was a fucking hypocrite liar. All Jews were. My mouth salivated in anticipation as I managed to whisper the word out. A smug grin sprawled across my face when Kyle understood what I had mouthed at him. By no means was I loud, but I got my message across with one simple word that I knew would drive Kyle bat-shit crazy:

“Kike.”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME!?”

Well, call me President Truman, because I just dropped a nuke.

I was so, so lucky that there was a table separating us. His face was blood red with suppressed rage and his mouth gaped open like a letterbox. Boy was I going to a mouthful from that letterbox of his. He was trembling slightly, though whether that was from pure hatred or disbelief, I did not know.

Still in a state of unspoken shock, Kyle was beyond any words. However, that didn’t include actions, unfortunately for me. He snatched his history notebook from the table and chucked it at my face.

Not anticipating that kind of response, I barely managed to move my head, but it still clipped me on my cheek.

“So much for not caring.” I laughed grimly with gritted teeth, wiping my cheek.

“Repeat what you just said to me! I fucking dare you!” Kyle screeched, hands beneath his side of the table.

There was a loud crash.

I knew he would flip his shit, but to flip a table... that was just too far.

Luckily, I was fast enough to step back, securing Fuhrer in my arms, who was hissing and writhing, majorly uncomfortable with the current situation. I didn’t blame her.

“Right now I’m wondering whether you want me to insult you or whether you’re just going deaf.” I mocked sardonically. “What have you got with names, Jew? First it’s my cat, then it’s what I call you. Stop making such a big deal out of nothing.”

Kyle twitched.

Not a Tweek style quiver, which indicated fear and defeat, but the opposite. A proper kind of ‘I’m currently in the state of mind to commit homicide and not even joking’ twitch. The kind of twitch that robots do when they transition from setting to setting. And judging by Kyle’s robotic look, things weren’t looking so good for me.

“Not a big fucking deal?” Kyle bleated, astounded, facial features contorting to pure and utter anger . “You fat piece of shit, slandering _my_ religion is no big deal to you?”

Kyle hopped over the table with ease, striding towards me in huge steps. Instinctively, I stepped back.

No, it wasn’t because I was scared.

In fact, I was the opposite.

Fucking petrified.

“It never was, was it now?” Kyle laughed like a maniac, backing me into a wall. “Sixteen fucking years and I couldn’t bring myself to show you what happens when I’m really mad.”

I had no choice but to comply, holding a scared, innocent kitten in my arms.

He was only a couple inches away from me, eyes set ablaze with fury, fists clenched, teeth gritted.

“What’s the little shit’s name?” Kyle ordered ruthlessly, swiping my little Fuhrer by the neck and dangling her away from me.

“The cat is not a shit, Jew! Don’t call her that!” I corrected, still intent on saving her dignity. “Give her back!”

I tried reaching for her with no success. It only resulted in being physically pinned to the wall with Kyle’s elbow digging into me. My kitten was yowling and mewling, having a fit. I wanted so badly to save her from that evil Jew’s grip, but I couldn’t.

And that hopelessness made me indignant.

Irrational.

“Oh, how the tables have turned. So it’s okay for you to use racial slurs but not for me to call that maggot infested rat whatever I want?” Kyle sneered, shaking her. “I’d say it needs to fucking drown in a tub, see how you feel about that. After all, you’d hate to make a big deal out of nothing, wouldn’t you?”

Kyle had that same crazed face when he promised to break my Xbox. It wasn’t a pleasant memory; when Kyle promises shit, he follows through.

“HEY!” I protested, pushing Kyle back with a free hand, outraged. Kyle wasn’t going to get away with that shit. “You better fucking show some respect to Fuhrer!”

Oh shit.

I could _hear_ the cogs whizzing in Kyle’s brain

And that

“You didn’t... just...” Kyle sputtered quietly.

I never really understood the meaning of ‘the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife’ right up until this very moment. Because right until this very moment, I hadn’t experienced that Jew so... _strange_. Sure, I saw him be mad, even furious with me. It was normal.

But that expression on his face, at that very moment, it beat everything I ever witnessed.

If I didn’t know him any better, I would’ve said his eyes started watering like he was about to burst into tears. He took a step back.

“You named your cat _Fuhrer_?” Kyle asked in an unbelieving whisper. “Why?”

I didn’t know how to behave. It was like all his rage had dissipated. But I definitely preferred an angry Kyle to this; an eerily silent one... I had to reply, but with what?

“It was nothing against you personally, Kahl.” I started, waiting for his burst of rebuttal.

It didn’t come.

Kyle just stood in front of me Not shouting, nor reacting, scarcely blinking or even breathing. He even lowered Fuhrer, who was furiously clawing at his leg, leaving some pretty deep marks. Kyle didn’t appear to notice.

“It’s just that I think it would be a cool name, you know? With her attitude and everything, I just thought she’d make a great leader, and that was kind of the first name that popped into my head. Stan and I decided that it was a good name for-”

“Don’t.” Kyle muttered blankly. “Don’t bring Stan into this.”

A little sheepishly, I twiddled my thumbs, waiting for Kyle to respond, to reply– with anything. An insult, a slur, anything would be better than this awkward silence.

But Kyle didn’t seem to notice that either.

“So yeah, I hope you’re not offended too badly. I should probably get going, I still need to take Fuhr– erm..her to the vet for neutering and buy some kitten food, you know how it is.” I babbled embarrassingly. “So I’d appreciate if I could have my cat back–”

I extended my arm out hopefully.

“You’re a Nazi.” Kyle said, as if he had a major epiphany. “A literal, anti-Semitic Nazi. If you didn’t call that thing fucking Fuhrer just to piss me off, then the only option that’s left is that...”

Fuhrer went limp.

That was fine. It was okay. Kyle probably changed the position of his hands to the top of her vertebrae, where her psychological instincts told her to be still in case the prey tried to dig deeper into her. Totally kewl.

Kyle held out his hand and carelessly dropped Fuhrer into my open palms.

She still didn’t move.

Gently, I prodded her belly.

Not even a twitch.

“Fuhrer?” I questioned.

No response.

I tried to stroke her.

Nothing.

I reached around to look at her face. Her eyes were horizontal slits, closed.

Kyle didn’t say a word. But I saw that malicious glint in his eye. That Jewish, deceitful, cat murdering glimmer.

With care, I placed Fuhrer on the shelf.

And I threw myself at Kyle.

I didn’t know or care what I was doing. I was punching, hitting, kicking everything; Kyle, floor, walls, furniture, and Kyle some more. My vision blurred and my senses numbed. All I could focus on was the pure hurt pounding through my body, both through the literal feeling of that dirty Jew’s attacks and the agony in my chest. The more I hit, the worse I felt, with even more of an urge to just get that hurt out. All of it. Which made me punch harder, kick faster, hurt myself more.

We ended up rolling about on the floor, attacking without mercy; without scruple. It was a raw, animalistic kind of fight. Rough and bloody, slamming our bodies against the walls and against eachother. There were no restraints, no banned moves- everything was allowed. This wasn’t child’s play; I was desperate to not only get the upper hand, but to leave the Jew physically damaged. Kyle seemed to think the same thing as I did, according to his blows.

That was just fine by me.

All the more reason to hit harder.

By the time we were both too physically exhausted to pound into eachother Stan’s living room was demolished. At one point, I decided that smashing a chair into Kyle’s back was a good idea, which he reciprocated by ripping the TV out of the socket and ramming it into me, shattering the screen into shards. That I used to try and gouge his eyeballs out. And that he tried to slit my throat with. No words were exchanged during this debacle, there was no need for them. After all, it was impossible for me to explain in words how much I despised Kyle– and vice versa, of course.

We ended up in opposite corners of what was left of the room, sweating and panting, getting grips with reality once more. Luckily, a couple minutes before, we had a silent truce about throwing shit at eachother after Kyle ended up with a ceramic flower pot slashing his forehead open and I received a nasty blast from a coffee table leg soaring through the air.

“I fuck... I fucking hate you..” Kyle wheezed. “I hope you know...”

I flipped him the bird.

Only now did the pain start setting in. There were several deep scratches on my neck, making me woozy even when sitting down. I was in no one particular pain because I hurt all over, thoroughly coated in aches and scrapes. I’d definitely need some kind of ibuprofen or something. A strong numbing drug.

Painkiller.

The room was covered in blood, spit and sweat, both of us were helping create puddles of it in our designated spots. Kyle didn’t look too good either, ushanka long forgotten, several patches of his frizzy hair that were substantially lacking, thanks to me ripping them out.

After some amount of time of quiet, Stan dared creep downstairs to check if it was all over.

He analysed our surroundings carefully.

“So all of you made it out alive.” Stan stated, ignoring the damage done. “That’s actually kind of a shock.”

“Yeah..” I panted, wiping my brow. “All of us except the kitten that the kike murdered in cold blood.”

“Call me that word again and it’ll be you next!” Kyle tried to screech, voice scraped raw, attempting to get back up.

Stan’s face darkened considerably.

“Kyle?” He asked gravely, “Is Cartman’s claim true?”

“No!” Kyle protested. “I do not admit to doing anything that Nazi says!”

“Typical fucking kike!”

A shard of TV screen was flung at me.

“Will both of you quit it?” Stan intervened harshly. “What actually happened?”

Both of us started ranting incoherently, sure that if we talked louder than the other our point would be heard first, and therefore, more valid.

“Enough!” Stan put his foot down. “For Christ’s sake, you’re like a pair of toddlers, the both of you! I want you to talk to me one at a time.”

Fucking Stan assuming I was behaving like a child. I was a mature fucking adult and would handle the situation appropriately.

I spoke first.

“Kahl killed my kitten.”

“Did not!” Kyle objected.

“Did too! It’s all your fault”

Kyle was about to say something back when I covered my ears. “La La La! I can’t hear anything because I don’t listen to lying Jews!”

“You’re the liar!” Kyle wailed shrilly. “But I’m not talking to you because you’re a Nazi and a racist and I hate you more than anything else ever created on this earth!”

“Even Hitler?” I asked contemptuously.

“I thought you said you didn’t listen to Jews!” Kyle deflected.

“And I thought you didn’t talk to Nazis!” I responded. “Also, I don’t listen to lying Jews, for your information, which you happen to be. But I truly believe you hate me more than anything. However, it just so happens that I hate you to Jupiter and back! So ha!”

“Well I hate you to Neptune and back!” Kyle goaded.

I laughed. “So what? Jupiter’s bigger, so that means I’m still right.”

“No! You’re wrong, as usual.” Kyle commented. “Neptune is further away, therefore the distance between the planets is larger, making my statement correct.”

“My God, you’re such a stupid Jew.” I insulted. “You’re not taking into the fact that Jupiter has a bigger circumference and it’s totally more badass, since it is the biggest planet. Who even thinks of Neptune when asked for a planet? No-one!”

“But that’s not what you meant whe–“

“Stop it!” Stan shouted. “I don’t want to hear any more of your bickering. As far as I’m concerned, there’s a dead animal on both of your hands, equally. Where is the body?”

I pointed at the place I left Fuhrer.

Stan walked up to it, examining little Fuhrer’s corpse.

“Well I’ve got good news and bad news.” He said calmly, coming back to us.

“What’s the good news?” I asked, hesitantly.

Because how can there be good news about a dead cat.

“You happen to be wrong.” Stan said to me.

Kyle smirked triumphantly.

“The cat is alive. She’s had a traumatic, exhausting day, so she’s regenerating. She just so happens to be a heavy sleeper.”

A huge weight lifted off my chest. Fuhrer was alive! Oh thank fuck!

“What about the bad news?” Kyle asked.

“Bad news? Look at my fucking living room, dude. That’s the fucking terrible news.” Stan lamented. “My mom is going to whoop my ass.”

I was still overjoyed at the prospect of Fuhrer being alive. Now that I thought about it, it did make sense. She was warm, fed and probably didn’t get to rest much in the brambles before. I scrambled up and scooped her into my arms despite my aching limbs and ligaments protesting.

Indeed, although completely still, she was still relatively warm to the touch. Unexpected tears of joy welled in my eyes, but to stay inconspicuous, I couldn’t wipe my face in front of them. Head bowed down, I went to put my coat and shoes on, making sure to not leave Fuhrer out of my sight for even a moment. I lifted up Fuhrer gently and placed her on my head, covering her with my hat so that she’d be warm.

“Okay, well, as I said before, we should probably get going home. Still got to plan that visit to the vet, you know?” I said, walking out the door. “Thanks, Stan.”

I made my way back home relatively quickly, depositing Fuhrer on the sofa. Mom was out, which was the better alternative out of the two, I guessed. While Fuhrer was sleeping, I made some preparations for her wellbeing: a food and water bowl, finding some kitty litter left deep inside a cupboard, going online to shop for a scratching post- basically, the general essentials.

A good couple hours passed.

Halfway through deciding whether her collar should be leopard print or just plain black, I heard a single knock on the door.

Hesitantly, I walked up, wondering whether it was just my imagination or the wind or something.

I opened the door, took one good look at who was outside-

And slammed it shut again.

The knocking continued, more strenuously than before, louder, clearer fist slams.

My everything hurt. How Kyle had the energy to haul his ass over to my place for round two of Kill The Jew, I had no idea. Fuhrer was mewling uncomfortably in her sleep, disturbed by the noise. If it weren’t for her, then I wouldn’t have gone up to open that door.

Kyle didn’t wait to be rejected again, he slid inside before I could even speak to him. What a fucking sneaky Jew!

“What the fuck do you want?” I inquired none too pleasantly.

He took off his coat, and took a deep breath, not quite knowing where to start.

“Look, Cartman. I don’t think that cat of yours should be named what you said it should.” Kyle said calmly, and a little uncomfortably.

However much I detested him, I could agree that one of us trying to nicely convince the other to do something was always undesirable. Just so much power over the other person was lost if you admitted your vulnerability, which Kyle was in the process of doing.

“Okay. Well I don’t think you should be in my house right now, but here you are.” I couldn’t resist making a sly jab at him.

He frowned, but otherwise ignored it.

“I have a serious moral objection to what you’re going to do.” Kyle admitted, putting one hand to rest on my neck to touch the wounds tenderly. “And I know I just nearly tried to kill you, and that these marks are probably going to become scars, and that you hate me for multiple reasons, but..”

I couldn’t bring myself to move his hand away from me, so Kyle continued. “I’m asking you. For just this one thing. Please don’t name your cat Fuhrer. Please, Cartman. Please.”

“I.. I...” I stammered, already affected by his sneaky Jew charm. Jews were always quick to rope a person in. I pulled his hand away immediately. “Why does it mean so much to you? It doesn’t mean anything apart from the labels you assign it.”

“Well, in case you wanted to know, the name Fuhrer automatically reminds me of when about six million of my people died. That event in history means something totally different to you, so I bet you’re probably stoked.” Kyle said the last statement curtly, biting his lower lip to prevent anything else escaping. “I haven’t got much of an argument as to why you should care, but I feel that it’s my duty, as, uh... a friend, to let you know that.”

Kyle looked away, cheeks not red, but the slightest shade of pink on his otherwise white face.

“A friend?” I asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Kyle murmured. “We’re not friends. It just sounded better in my head.”

“More convincing, you mean?”

“I guess you could say that. Fighting you doesn’t give me much leverage.” Kyle confessed, an edge to his voice. “I don’t even know why I’m here. It’s pretty obvious that you’re not going to change your mind, no matter what I say or do. After all, you hate me.”

“Yep.” I told Kyle. “I do.”

“Okay.” He sighed, disheartened. “I’ll take this as my cue to leave.”

Kyle looked completely and utterly dejected as he put on his coat. Taking one last look at me, he opened the front door. Waiting for a change of heart.

“Kyle.” I called out to him.

He turned his head to look at me, eyes once more hopeful and luscious green.

“I... I’ll... Uh, pay Stan for the damages on Monday.”

Kyle slammed the door behind him.

I felt something slam inside my ribcage too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people!  
> This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but I decided to tweak it a little before I did. Let me know what you think, did I do okay on this one? Hopefully you didn't get bored, this chapter is a little on the longer side.
> 
> Also, serious question. Headcannon preferences! Tall Kyle or small Kyle? I love both; I can work with either, whichever one you guys think fits more.


	15. Wrong side of heaven

What the hell was I thinking? Paying Stan for the damages?

What the actual fuck.

I always knew Jews were a terrible influence. It was like I completely lost control of what I was saying and thinking–  the worst part being–  without realising it. The fucking nerve of that Jew, to come over to mah house, and demand that I change the Fuhrer’s name, and trick me into paying for what he broke! I couldn’t fucking believe it.

But those were the words that came out my mouth.

And that was fucking terrifying.

Only after I sat down on the couch and transferred Fuhrer to my lap did I really start contemplating about what just happened. It turned out that I was extremely lucky. I replayed the moment over and over again in my mind.

Kyle’s intent gaze, my utter lack of control, the fact that in that current moment, with his green, oh-so green eyes looking into me, I actually (for a fraction of a second) considered changing Fuhrer’s name. That was unbelievable. I was so sure of her name before, and don’t get me wrong, I still was, but to have that miniscule moment of doubt? That was unlike anything I’ve ever done before.

My name was Eric Theodore-fucking-Cartman for fuck’s sake. I did exactly the opposite of what people wanted me to do, just to piss them off. I didn’t take orders, most certainly not from Jews.

Then why? Why did that exchange happen in the first place?

I knew I should’ve kicked him out the moment he slid into the room. No, I knew I should’ve carried Fuhrer upstairs, ignoring his knocking in the first place. Actually, coming to think of it, both of those scenarios were wrong.

I should’ve killed Kyle when I had the chance.

Oh how tempting it was now, thinking about it. It made me what to hit myself for being so recklessly stupid before. I had the opportunity, I know I did. But I missed my golden ticket.

During our fight, I had my very own fingers against his alabaster skin, digging into numerous parts of him, most notably, his neck. If only... If only I just pinned him down long enough and didn’t flinch away when he kicked me upwards, held him down just a little harder, a little longer, I could’ve done it. I know I could have. Had him dead on the floor. Then none of this would’ve occurred. I would’ve been fine.

However, that was in the past.

I was never one to mindlessly and nostalgically look back to previous moments in my life. There was nothing I could do to change them, so in the past they stayed, and I would focus on the present, trying to conjure up a plan to succeed where I failed before.

An anticipatory lump formed in my throat. The world would be a better place without that Jewrat messing up the place. Fuhrer purred in my lap as I stroked her mangled tufts of fur. She agreed with me.

Mom came home some time later, but I barely paid any attention to her rambling as she came through the front door.

“Vet. Now.”

“Poopsie, one mome–”

“Come on!” I ordered, dragging her back out that very same door she came in just moments ago. She dropped her groceries in the landing as I got in her car, not bothering to even entertain the stupid notion that she would decline.

As I expected, she obliged. But that wasn’t much of a shock now, was it? Mom was so pliable, so easy to bend. Effortless to control, to manipulate. I liked that about people. It just made my life so much easier.

With a slight sigh, she got in the car and put her seatbelt on. Mom stopped trying to correct my potty mouth ages ago, ever since I became too big for her to handle. I held Fuhrer in my lap protectively as the car drove out onto the street, and I ignored the slightly odd sensation of being watched. I mean, this was South Park, after all– there was bound to be someone out in the open, throwing trash away or something like that. Yeah. Or perhaps just the streetlamps reflected weirdly with the moon glinting in between the clouds. That made sense too.

Not long after we arrived at the veterinary clinic, which was surprisingly empty for such an evening, we were called in. The vet examined little Fuhrer cautiously. She obviously didn’t like him, hissing if the vet so much as dared put his hand near her face. I desperately tried to calm her down, and eventually, after a lot of coaxing and petting, she reluctantly let the vet do his job.

He clucked his tongue in disapproval after the fifth time he tried to check over Fuhrer’s stomach and she clawed at him. “Well, she’s a feisty little ‘un, isn’t she?”

“Eric, are you sure you want to have this cat?” Mom asked, nervously twiddling her hands. After all, she was used to Mr Kitty’s tame approach towards everyone for many years. “We could maybe think this through a little more, check some nearby animal shelt–”

I shot her a look. That’s all she needed to shut the fuck up. Fuhrer was mine, and no force on this earth would separate me from her. Calmly, I placed my hand over Fuhrer’s stomach and she visibly deflated, the tension disappearing off her face.

“I guess it shows that I’ve always been a bit more of a dog person, myself. But you? You sure do have a way with felines, don’t you?” The vet observed, nodding at me, impressed. “Hold her paws for me, while I check for any indents the brambles might have created on her chest."

He hummed for a couple moments, pressing the stethoscope against her beating heart. With a couple more checks over her body, a microchip implant, an ear exam and some other asinine medical procedures, the vet finally concluded.

“Well, I think that’s about it. Just make sure to give her the supplements once a day and her fur should grow back in no time.” He rummaged around in his desk drawer for a moment. “Since she’s a stray, and we have a few spare, we might as well sign the adoption agreement here.”

The vet took a pen out of his pocket and slid a sheet of paper across the desk in front of me.

It was just the typical fancy document jargon, a page full of things by the lines of –‘I hereby agree to care for the above described pet in a humane and responsible manner and to provide it with clean and adequate shelter, food, water and veterinary care.’ And some other bullshit. By the end of the contract, I was rather offended. Like hell was I going to sell my fucking cat. But there were many fucked up people on this earth, ones who liked to abuse poor little innocent cats.

I signed at the bottom.

The vet skimmed through the information, stopping after only a moment.

“You’re naming your cat Eric?” The vet inquired. “Isn’t that going to be confusing?”

“No! What are you even talking about?”

“Right here.” The vet dragged one long finger across the page, where a gap that I filled in was.

I snatched the paper from him, scribbling my name out hurriedly, slightly uncomfortable with the fuck up. Mom chuckled. If he weren’t there, I would’ve had a real bitch at her.

“No worries, young man. It gets nearly everyone, no matter how much the board insists on it being clearly understandable.” The vet assured. “ Just write your pet’s name down, and we’re done for the night.”

The feeling of doubt returned once more.

I swallowed it down. After all, I was sure I wanted her name to be Fuhrer.

I did. I really, really did.

A slight twinge of regret hit me as I wrote down the first letter of Fuhrer’s name.

I looked up to see the vet smiling encouragingly.

By the second letter, a rope coiled itself around my chest, like a too tight belt, squeezing me.

I– I would name her Fuhrer. I would!

A glance at Mom told me she was far too preoccupied with eyeing up the vet to help me. How nice of her.

Only shame was that she wasn’t currently addressing my internal turmoil. Was the room getting hotter or was that just me?

Gently, I pressed my pen down to the paper, ready to write the third letter, but made no attempt to move it. A small blot appeared on the page.

Her name was going to be Fuhrer.

I looked at her, snoozing again on the examining table.

She was a leader. A ferocious, brave leader. Full of passion. She deserved the best name. A name worthy of respect.

Fuhrer looked so peaceful, almost otherworldly.

Not that any Jew would ever appreciate what the real Fuhrer did. Hitler did what he did for everyone’s good. Including their own. But all Jews were always too stupid to understand the basic stuff.

_Kyle wasn’t stupid._

And with that alarmingly offbeat thought, I wrote the rest of her name down quickly and passed the sheet of paper back to him. Without even a glance, he placed the paper in his filing cabinet and stood up, probably satisfied with the very likely chance of me writing something basic.

“Well, thank you Doc.” Mom simpered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “As much as I love this little kitten, it’s a real shame it’ll be a while before I see you again.”

For fuck’s sake! Not this shit! Of all people to flirt with? A fucking vet?

Red in the face, I pulled her arm using one side of my body, holding a thoroughly worn-out kitten on my other side, who nestled her cute tiny face in the crook of my elbow.

“Poopsie, vet bills are expensive!” She tried to reason sulkily, to no avail.

I shut down any potential response from him by yanking my mother away, embarrassed for her, out of his office, and out of the building. The tightness around my chest wouldn’t disperse. We bumped into some tall person wearing a navy hoodie, but they didn’t turn around to acknowledge us, so we carried on until I safely deposited my mother in the car, away from harm’s way.

The ride home was silent.

With a scowl, I hopped out of the car, and headed up to my room, laying my brand new pet on my pillow with care. She snuggled up to it with the cutest expression, yawning once and returning to sleep.

Meanwhile, I filled up the litter box and placed it at the end of my bed. She was a smart cat; she’d figure out a way to get down and back up. I heard Mom try to approach my room, so hurriedly, I locked the door. I didn’t want to talk to her.

“I’m going out soon, Poopsikins.” She called from the other side of my door, the usual oblivious, _completely fucking shameless_ cheeriness back in her voice. “Make sure you go to bed early, alright? Love you!”

I didn’t bother gratifying her with an answer.

Instead, I sat down on the floor, back pressed against my wall, arms around my knees, head down.

My own mother was going to go out about town, whoring herself out to any potential man. But at least she bothered to tell me that there most likely wouldn’t be any unwanted guests tonight. That was nice of her. I had more than enough experience with her regulars that came to our house. The pushy ones. The ones that wouldn’t leave me alone.

And I didn’t know who to hate more; them, my mother... or myself.

Unwillingly, I pushed my face into my knees harder.

It’s not like she gave two shits about what I did anyways. I wasn’t complaining, though. She just accepted the fact that I do whatever I want! That was totally awesomely kewl. Totally.

I took a deep, hiccoughing breath.

She still loved me. A bad mother wouldn’t have trusted me with the responsibility of caring for a cat. After all, she drove me all the way to get my pet!

I made her do that. That was the downfall of easy-to-manipulate people.

They didn’t care enough to fight back.

_She_ didn’t care enough to fight back.

I bit my trembling lip.

No, that wasn’t true at all!

My Mama loved me! She did! She did! She did!

I looked across the room, gazing out the window into the night. Everything was slightly blurry around the edges and I swallowed a lump in my throat. The moon was completely hidden behind the clouds, as if it were behind a canopy of leaves. Like a thicket of some sort.

And that reminded me.

**“You can’t face facts even when they’re staring right at your face.”**

I started hyperventilating.

Kenny... He was wrong!

He had to be wrong...

I blinked furiously, trying not to let a single tear escape.

A distraction. That’s exactly what I needed.

I heaved myself under my bed, retrieving my old toybox. From inside, I grabbed everything I needed, but I daren’t go downstairs, despite the fact that there were actual chairs there.

Improvising, I sat everyone around in a circle, sniffling as I handed out each saucer, cup and teaspoon to each one of them.

There! With the teapot in the middle, everything looked perfect.

All my real friends gathered together for a tea party!

“Wow Eric, this tea looks really good!” Rumpertumskin announced, positively falling head over heels for my tea.

“Tha– Thank you.” I sniffed, putting him back in position. “I tried really hard.”

“We know you did. You always do!” Polly Prissypants assured. “And we appreciate it very much! Remember, we’re always glad to be your friends.”

“Totally!” chirped in Peter Panda. “Could you pass me the tea please, Eric? I would love to taste it.”

Obediently, I poured some imaginary tea out of the empty teapot, my tears slowly dying out. “Does anyone else want some?”

Every one of my friends shouted out for some. Being the perfect host, I poured them all a cupful and wiped my watery eyes clean.

“Muscle Man Marc!” I scolded thickly, seeing him dribble it down his chin onto his muscles. “That’s no way to drink any beverage, nor how to behave amongst other people!”

“I’m sorry, but it’s just so good, I couldn’t help myself! Everything you do is really good.” Muscle Man Marc commented.

“Agreed!” The rest of them cheered.

“Yeah, Eric! Everyone knows you’re super awesome and kewl.” Polly Prissypants exclaimed happily. “You should totally hang out with us more often. It’s just not the same when you’re not around.”

Rumpertumskin nodded. “Very true Polly, very true. You add value to our friendship, Eric. You are a very special person. And anyone who thinks otherwise is stupid, and completely wrong.”

Peter the Panda butted in. “Eric, we all know you’re amazing! We love you! More than words can express.”

We continued on, and by the end, we were all cracking jokes with eachother, having a great time. See, it’s all about the types of friends one chooses to have. And my friends were absolutely great. I was really happy! They were the perfect friends– ones who would never, ever abandon me.

I thought I was back to normal when I placed my friends back in the box.

Clyde Frog was sitting there at the bottom. His beaded eyes glaring at me.

I dropped the rest of them in and pulled him out.

“Close the box and push it back under that bed. We’re going to talk in private.” Clyde Frog demanded.

I held him in my hand, looking at him, then at the box, and back at him.

“Now, fatty!”

Frightened, I kicked the toybox under the bed.

“Good... Good..”

“What do you want from me?” I asked, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth.

This was the reason I didn’t bring my friends out more often. It would always end up like this. Me, alone with Clyde Frog. And conversation with him was difficult. It ended in the same way it always did.

It led up to no good.

“Long time no see, Eric.” Clyde Frog snarled. “Been having tea parties, by the looks of it. Without me?”

I nodded timidly, avoiding his wide, entrancing stare.

“What caused it this time?” Clyde Frog’s voice softened to almost a buttery, thick sound.

“Nothing.”

“Liar! Such a damn liar!” Clyde Frog screamed croakily, the accusation reverberating around the room. “You can lie to everyone else in this world, even yourself, but you don’t fucking lie to me!”

He calmed down from his outburst for a second.

“Understood?”

I nodded, keeping my head low.

“So what caused it this time?” Clyde Frog repeated himself, back to his normal froggy demeanour.

“Kyle.” I whispered.

Clyde Frog let out a ribbit-y, scornful laugh. “What a surprise!”

He waited for me to continue.

“I don’t want to talk about it with you.” I proclaimed, voice quavering.

“Oh no, why not?” Clyde Frog sneered. “You’re happy talking about fairytales with fucking plushies, you fucking nobody, but won’t dare confide in your best friend? Remember, Eric. I am your best friend. I warned you, what did I say? ‘Don’t befriend that McCormick kid. Everyone knows he’s poor. And poor people make terrible friends.’ But what do you go and do?”

“I became friends with Kinny.” I snivelled.

“And where did he make you end up?”

“Talking with you.”

“Exactly.” Clyde croaked evilly. “Here’s a quick tip for next time I tell you something. You fucking listen to what I have to say. And you fucking do as I tell you!”

My body shook a little.

Clyde Frog softened back up again.

“Eric, I give you advice because I want what’s best for you. The others may say they love you, but do you really believe them? We both know that in this cruel, cruel world, I’m the only person who cares about you. I just want you to be happy. Do you care about me too, Eric? Do you want me to be happy as well?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to listen to my advice?”

“I promise, Clyde.” I agreed willingly.

“See?” Clyde Frog smiled. “Now we’re talking like people. So, tell me, what did that fucking Jew do?”

I thought about it long and hard. Apart from the physical pain, which I gestured to Clyde Frog immediately, was he to blame for everything else? Of course he was.

“The Jew cursed me.” I confessed.

“All those tales I told you, all those warnings, and yet you still get infected? Oh, Eric, you seem just as stupid as that motherfucking Jewshit. What did he curse you with?”

“A tightness. In my chest. And my mind. He created doubts where there were none before, he made me doubt things that I’ve never doubted before!” I confessed his wrongdoings like they were sins and Clyde Frog my personal saviour.

“What? What did he make you doubt?” Clyde Frog enquired, eyes wide and eager to know.

“The Fuhrer.”

Clyde Frog stared at me. “Eric, look at me! Look at my label at my back.”

I turned Clyde Frog over to read the little once white (now yellowed with age) tag sticking out of his backside.

“What does it say?” Clyde Frog demanded.

“Made in Germany.” I read out.

“And, like all things German, I am great, aren’t I?”

I gave Clyde Frog his answer, turning him back around. “Yes. You are.”

“Who else from Germany is great?” Clyde enquired.

“Hitler.”

“Say his full name!” Clyde screeched. “Honor the Fuhrer properly, you bastard!”

“Adolf–  Adolf Hitler.” I mumbled.

“And what did our wonderful Fuhrer do?”

Clyde Frog looked at me, sternly demanding a response.

“He killed the Jews.”

“And why did he kill the Jews?” Clyde Frog quizzed.

He liked giving me that question. And I found pleasure I answering it.

“Because they are worthless scum.”

Clyde Frog laughed maliciously. “My Eric, you’re a real strapping young lad. You’ve got a Jew on your hands. What do you think the Fuhrer would’ve wanted you to do?”

“Get rid of it.”

“There’s hope for you, after all!” Clyde Frog cheered. “Let’s get planning then. We’ll be rid of your curse soon, Eric. I promise. Just listen to me and you’ll be fine.”

“But–”

Clyde frog shrieked, turning nasty in the span of two seconds. “That’s the Jew curse in you speaking! There’s no ‘if’s’ and ‘but’s’ about it! You do as I say! Remember that you’re just a bastard. You don’t matter to anyone. Not a single fucking person cares about you! Apart from me. And you’d better make me want to care about you.”

I took a breath, ready to contradict him–

“You want to do this. I know you do. You do too. Just earlier, you were fantasising about it, were you not? Time to get to action, Eric.”

I agreed.

Supposedly, killing a human being would land the murderer in hell. With that claim I disagreed.

I wouldn’t end up in hell. Just, maybe on the–

Wrong side of heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the one thing I promise not to do when I'm writing a fic of my own?  
> Read other, better Kyman fics.  
> And what did my dowdy ass do?  
> Exactly that! 
> 
> Yeah, so this became a thing. But, tea parties, so, yay? I honestly feel like I've messed up with this chapter, but I can't be bothered anymore.  
> Characterisation? Yeah, I probably fucked that up.   
> Plotline? That's gone down the shitter as well.  
> Kyman? I went from maybe potentially a spark to fucking murder! Jesus Christ!
> 
> I just can't. I swear by the moon and the stars in the sky, I don't know how much longer I can pull this shit. I just, can't. There's so much better stuff out there to read, and I don't blame anyone for wanting to read that instead. Just look at this shit!
> 
> Feel free to leave criticism below. At this point, it's more than welcome for my stupid ass to get called out.


	16. You're gonna go far, kid

Everything was ready.

Clyde Frog and I planned out from dusk till dawn, from alibis to places to hide Kyle’s body. After a long, tiring night, we had everything finalised and concluded. We even heard Mom wobble back home from her slutty adventures, but neither of us paid any attention to the slamming of doors and rickety clacks of her heels.

There was only one thing that was left, and that was to get to action. Unfortunately, that was going to be the most excruciating part– we had to wait. It would do me no good to just go out in the sunny daylight and stab Kyle. That was just a foolish way to attempt murder. Someone would scream, and I’d get my ass busted; sent to jail for life. And that type of murder was just plain boring.

Everyone always knew that the fun lay in getting away with it.

Which was going to be extremely hard for me. Picture this scenario for a moment: the smartass Jew mysteriously disappeared. Who do the police go to first? The town Nazi, of course. And it didn’t help that the two of us just had a fight that, Stan, a potential witness could talk about. Definitely wouldn’t help my case.

I clicked my tongue.

There was no use in trying to go on a killing spree to butcher him as well, it was only Kyle I was after. Plus, that would just make me look even more suspicious. No, I knew full well what I had to do to make this seem believable.

Good thing I was always thought of myself as an expert liar and manipulator.

And I would do anything to make my homicide go according to plan. Even if it meant changing a few things that I really didn’t want to. Some Jews just needed a sacrifice before they could be killed.

“I’m sorry, Fuhrer. I’ll get everything back to normal soon, I promise.”

Shoving Clyde Frog in my hoodie pocket, I headed out, but not before giving Fuhrer a small stroke. She was stretching on my pillow, nuzzling into it. I just hoped she’d forgive me.

Mom was downstairs, passed out on the couch, skirt ridden up, fishnet tights indented in her skin, dark mousy hair tousled all over. She looked disgusting. Quietly, I crept up to her, swiping the purse from her grasp. Mom merely groaned and wriggled as I poured all of its’ contents out. I found what I needed, and picked it up.

Her car keys.

Stealthily, I went outside and unlocked her car. Surely, she wouldn’t mind if I took it for a ride. Actually, scratch that– I didn’t fucking care what she thought, I was going whether she wanted me to or not.

With Clyde Frog in the passenger seat, I set out to drive. Only problem was that I couldn’t. Never hurt to learn a new skill, right? Well, that was my reasoning anyway. I put the keys in the ignition. And turned the car on. It rumbled and shook a little, but I was sure that that was what I was supposed to do. I yanked the gear into drive mode. That was what Mom always did, but the car didn’t move in my case. I searched around, looking for a magic button or lever or something, but to no avail. After turning the windscreen wipers on and off again for the umpteenth time, I groaned and leaned back. The car wouldn’t move!

I stretched my legs out, until they hit a upwards sloping bump. Huh? Good thing it was still quite early and no-one about to witness me because I was acting totally retarded. How could’ve I not thought about the fucking gas pedal?

I slammed my foot on it in triumph.

Aha!

The car still didn’t move.

Ah- fuck.

Then, I tried the identical one next to it.

With a small roar, the car lurched forward, my seatbelt catching me just in time. Quickly, I pressed the other pedal. Clyde Frog flew into the windshield and landed on the dashboard with a thump.

Needless to say, it took me some time to figure things out, but, with a little determination, we were cruising on the empty roads, out of town. I’m pretty sure I went over the speed limit a dozen or so times; whatever! I was having a shitload of fun, and I even managed to scrape Mom’s car in the bushes only twice.

“Are you sure you _have_ to do this?” Clyde Frog croaked dismally as we approached our destination. “Don’t you think this is overkill?”

“There’s no other way about it, Clyde.” I sighed, taking a sharp left turn. The car tyres screeched, leaving thick black marks on the road. “I know, I know, the kidnapping method does sound much more appealing to you, but the thing is, South Park is a small town. They’ll find him in a matter of days. And I need this thing to be foolproof.”

“I guess I understand.” Clyde Frog conceded grumpily. “Because in the end, there’s only one thing that matters. That he’s dead, and, more importantly, he stays dead. You know how sneaky Jews can be.”

“Oh, I do, Clyde. Believe me, I do. As soon as the whole thing clears up, we’ll come back here and I’ll revert that horrific change. But until then, we’ll just have to deal with it, as much as it breaks my heart to have to do this.”

Clyde Frog and I talked for the remainder for the journey, just like old times. I almost forgot how kewl Clyde Frog really was. It was a while since we last talked. I think I might’ve overreacted before. I mean, Clyde Frog was my only true best friend, and as we pulled up into the empty parking space, he finished up giving me some advice.

“–So remember, Eric, everyone, and I mean _every single_ person on this planet, has some ulterior motive for doing something. You can’t trust anything that talks, especially Jews, because when they ask you to do something, you’re helping them with their private agenda without even knowing it.”

I hummed in acknowledgement, clumsily parking across three spots. Good thing this place didn’t open until nine- I still had time, and no one to see my God-awful manoeuvring.

I leaned over and grabbed my mother’s leather gloves- barely managing to slip those tiny things over my hands. Then, I opened the storage compartment and grabbed a couple bobby pins, twisting two into a lock pick. With Clyde Frog in my pocket, I got out the car and headed towards the veterinary clinic back door.

I broke a few bobby pins in the process, but after about fifteen minutes of heavy swearing, the door clicked open. Relieved, I stepped in. There was no need to worry about security cameras or anything like that. I took care of that earlier.

Silently, I sneaked my way into the vet’s office. Luckily, this time, it only took a couple tries to pry the lock open and I fist-bumped the air in triumph. The office was empty, left exactly as I’d seen it yesterday.

Fuhrer’s file was in the desk drawer. I tried not to rummage around too much, just in case anyone noticed that the contents were strewn about haphazardly and got too suspicious.

I took her paper and a pen out of my pocket.

After which I blotted out her name.

Clyde Frog sniffed, disgruntled, and majorly disappointed, but it had to be done.

I didn’t even notice the sensation of relief that lifted my chest up until now.

I mean, that reaction was just part of the plan to kill Kyle. It was the anticipation that got to me. Nothing else.

“So, what are you changing it to?” Clyde Frog asked.

I let out a deep breath.

What to change it to? I thought about it, twirling the pen between my fingers. Well, it couldn’t be anything offensive, especially not towards Jews. I also wanted it to be similar to what her name was previously, but I couldn’t find anything that would intertwine the two together.

My mind flashed back to the moment when Kyle and I were fighting, Fuhrer in his grasp, clawing at him furiously...

Furiously.

Fury.

In the neatest handwriting I could muster, I wrote down her new name.

“Not too bad, if I say so myself.” I told Clyde Frog, stuffing the paper back in and heading out the office and to the car.

“I must agree with you there. I like your thinking.” He admitted as I placed him next to me in the passenger seat once more . “But are you _sure_ we had to change her name?”

“Yes.” I replied, turning on the ignition and attempting to drive back out of the parking lot. “We talked about this before, Clyde; to get away with killing a Jew I need to convince people that I’m not the number one suspect. And that’s going to be hard to do when my cat’s named in honour of Hitler–”

“The _almighty_ Hitler!” Clyde Frog interrupted indignantly.

“The almighty Hitler.” I corrected myself. “To prove to people that I’m ‘innocent’, I need to make someone else look like they’re on worse terms with him than I am.”

Clyde Frog ribbeted quietly, contemplating something.

“What is it, Clyde, my friend?”

“This means you’re going to have to spend time with him.” Clyde spoke reproachfully as we zoomed down the highway. “Laughing, talking, sharing thoughts, even secrets _with a fucking Jew_!”

“For appearances sake, yes.” I spoke, trying to placate him. With little success.

“Well I don’t approve!” Clyde Frog screeched. “He is a worthless Jew –that, as a matter of fact, should’ve been killed by the Fuhrer a long time ago- and you will not be spending time with him! I forbid it!”

“Clyde, the only way this is going to work is if I sacrifice some things to make it look like I didn’t have a motive to kill Kyle. You know that.”

“Can’t you just do a hit and run? We could hire a hitman. Make it seem like an accident, or, better yet, suicide. Anything, Eric, fucking anything, but not this!”

“Oh Clyde, we spent the whole night discussing this. Suicide is out of the question- as if that arrogant fucker would ever even dream about harming his perfect body–”

Clyde Frog shot me a beady, uncertain, almost questioning, look.

“You know that I don’t mean it that way!” I protested, the car swerving slightly out of my control.

“Eric. You know that there’s nothing ‘perfect’ about that fucking Jewrat, right?” Clyde spat in contempt.

My face flushed red. “Ugh, bad choice of words, but it gets the point across. You know what I meant, I don’t need to explain myself. Besides, if I thought he was perfect then I wouldn’t be with you right now, plotting how to kill him!”

“Fair point.”

“Anyways, hitmen are way too fucking expensive, and there’s no guarantee that they wouldn’t just take the money and leg it.” I said, turning down the streets, nearly back at home.“He’s also way too cautious to make an accident seem believable. You know I wouldn’t be able to do a hit and run; there’s the issue of his bitch mother. She’d start World War Three if she didn’t have anyone to blame, and trust me, she’d fucking tear the country down before she’d let anyone get away with murdering her precious little baby.”

“There’s nothing ‘precious’ about a Jew either!”

“I know that!” I yelled. “Jesus Clyde, chill out! I promise you, I won’t let his Jew magic get under my skin! Everything’s going to be alright!”

**Thud.**

I got out of the car(dragging Clyde Frog with me) to assess the damage. Fortunately, we were in our driveway, and it wasn’t anything too serious. Just an indent on the rear end of the car caused by bumping into the letterbox.

Eh, whatever.

When I returned the keys back to their rightful owner, I went to the kitchen and prepared some food for Fuhrer... Fury..? For my cat, basically. She really appreciated it, judging from the way she slurped it all up in the span of a couple minutes. I lay Clyde Frog on the bed and played with Fury some for a little while, using an old shoelace– don’t get the idea that I was a terrible pet owner, just her toys I ordered weren’t due to arrive for another couple days. It was hilarious watching her attempt to sneak up and pounce, her orange tail flicking from side to side. Eventually, she decided to go for an adventure, exploring my bedroom while I cleaned out the litter tray. She finally decided to settle herself down on my windowsill, soaking in the sunlight. I left her to it.

I had matters to attend to.

Clyde Frog made a point of ignoring me, not even saying goodbye.

He’d change enough soon enough. After all, I was only doing this because I had to.

I headed outside, and over to the Broflovski residence. Boldly, I knocked on their front door.

“Cartman!” Piped up Ike’s squeaky voice as he attached himself to my leg in a hug upon opening.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I was totally kewl with Ike and his crowd of friends. I mean, I was a pretty big influencer amongst them, being CartmanBrah, hooking them up with vapes, going on pirate adventures to Somalia and more. Yeah, after my profession as Mr Cartmanez, I finally reached these kids.

“Hey, Lil D.”

It was a short nickname that I made up years ago, and he wore proudly, especially amongst his peers. And it never failed to make me smirk. I couldn’t wait for the moment when Kyle would realise that I would never stop calling his brother a little dildo.

Ike clambered up my leg. He was surprisingly agile for a ten year old.

“Where’s your bitch-er.. Mom and Dad?” I asked, closing the front door.

“Dad’s working in his office. Bitch’s out grocery shopping for bandages. Kyle’s in his room, in desperate need for said bandages.”

“Good to know.” I snorted with laughter. I fucking loved that little Canadian. Seriously.

“I’m guessing you want to see him. Well, knock on his door first, because with all the moaning and grunting I can’t tell whether he’s dying or masturbating in there.” Ike told me. “Nice bruises, by the way. Shame you didn’t kick his ass hard enough.”

I started laughing uncontrollably as Ike let go. Damn, he was a good detective. “You’re gonna go far, kid.”

Trying to calm myself down, I walked up the stairs.

“Cartman?” Ike called out to me.

I turned around.

“Well...” Ike mumbled, shifting from foot to foot, “I got the new Metro Exodus..you know, if you want to come play it, I’ll gladly watch you.”

“Sure thing, Lil D.” I replied.

“Wow, really?” Ike’s face lit up, beaming from ear to ear.

I nodded, confirming, after which I bounded up the rest of the stairs, and down the hallway. Standing outside Kyle’s room, I pressed my ear against the door, and indeed, there were several groans and panting whines coming from inside.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself.

I had to remember; I was going to be believable. I _had_ to be believable in order for everything to work. And that meant having him warm up to me, slowly.

I knocked on the door.

“Ma?” asked a breathy voice from inside.

I took that as my cue to open the door.

Kyle sat up on his bed, alarmed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hey Kahl.” I said, keeping my gaze on the floor. “Can I come in?”

A pillow hit my face.

That was more or less what I was expecting. As well as his answer:

“No! Get out of here, you anti-Semitic piece of shit!” He retorted, looking around for more objects to throw at me.

“Kahl, please. I want to tell you something.”

Kyle’s alarm clock flew through the air, but I stepped in the room and to the left, so it missed me. I closed the door behind me.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say!” Kyle spat.

Another projectile.

“Please!” I implored, “Let me speak.”

Kyle wasn’t having any of that. I received three more missiles aimed my way. Then, Kyle leaned back, panting, face red with exertion. He must’ve been pretty weak if that’s all it took to make him tire out.

“What? Say what you have to say then get out of my sight! I fucking hate you, you racist bastard! But I swear to God, if you try and tell me now about how much pleasure you had while you named your cat fucking Fuh-”

“I didn’t.” I interjected.

Kyle stopped, mouth gaped open. His curled were plastered to his forehead with sweat as his chest moved up and down rapidly. Disbelievingly.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you.” I confessed. “If you think I’m lying, phone the clinic yourself. Be my guest, I’ll even give you their number.”

Kyle looked me up and down, scrutinizing for a moment while I kept my sincere appearance.

He folded his arms, coming to a conclusion.

“Yeah, give me the number. I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”

Obediently, I dictated him the digits to the veterinary clinic. Kyle then spent the next fifteen minutes speaking to automated phone machines before he finally connected to one of the vets. I was impatient to know what he thought, as he kept his phone pressed to his ear instead of on speaker, talking only in hushed murmurs.

After seemingly ages, he put the phone down.

“You were actually being honest...” Kyle muttered to me, astonished.

“I tend to do that quite a lot, but people never seem to notice.” I stated philosophically, turning around and heading out of Kyle’s room.

“You’re going already?” Kyle asked.

“Well duh.” I answered. “That’s what I came here to tell you, and from the looks of things, you don’t seem to want me here.”

“You should’ve told me as soon as you came into the room, you idiot.” Kyle huffed. “But you can stay, I guess, but not for too long.”

“Wow, am I actually being graced with the option of existing in Kahl’s presence?” I mocked his arrogance.

“Yeah, I’m allowing you to do that. Bring me my pillow and come here.” He replied, sitting up properly so that there was space on his bed.

I took a tentative step forward. “Are you going to start throwing shit at me again?”

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up then yes, I will.”

I laughed heartily, joining him on the opposite end of the bed, chucking the pillow at his face. He flipped me the bird and put it behind his back.

“So, what the fuck is up with you?” I gesticulated at him.

“Just a cold, I think.” Kyle said. “And a bit of a temperature, nothing too serious.”

“Really? You look like shit.” I observed.

Kyle’s face was flushed, especially his cheeks and forehead, but I couldn’t discern whether it was worse due to the fact that he was still cooling down or not. Despite being so red, he was paler than usual, his arm sickly white when reaching out for a tissue.

“So do you.” Kyle teased, peering at all the marks he made.

I covered them up with my hand as best as I could. “You proud of yourself?”

“Not really. I mean, I’m sick from being out in the snow after physical exertion and Mom’s going batshit crazy coddling me. I swear, I’m not going to be able to go back to school for the next two months if she has her way.” Kyle laughed wearily.

I joined him, but a bitter feeling of resentment bubbled up inside me. Oh, how horrible Kyle’s life truly was! Spoiled fucking ginger.

The conversation died down a little, with Kyle feeling weak, I stood up, letting him have more room. I glanced between him and the door, deciding to leave.

“Cartman,” Kyle said as I was just about to open the door. “I know you’re not going to answer my question, but I’m going to ask it anyway. Why did you change the name? I know you were dead set on it.”

“Can’t people change their minds?”

“No, they can’t. Not when they’re you.” He commented.

I placed my hand on the doorknob. “Well, it’s not some major conspiracy theory. I thought that Fury would suit her better, that’s all.”

“So am I to understand that the reason you changed her name was nothing to do with me whatsoever?”

Ever so slightly, I tensed up. “Don’t flatter yourself, Kahl. Not everything in my life revolves around you.” I stated.

“Oh what a shame. Up until this moment, I thought it did.”

I couldn’t fucking wait to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila! Chapter number 16 is here!
> 
> Thank you to everyone's lovely comments last chapter, and sorry for my bitching rant.
> 
> Anyways, until next time!


	17. Just for show

Trust me when I tell you; it took all my willpower to not turn on my heel and smash his face in right there and then. Well, actually, I wasn’t even exerting any self-control whatsoever because I _was_ going to go and kill him that very moment.

Call it misfortune, or even stupid luck because if it weren’t for the fact that the door to Kyle’s bedroom opened with that small Canadian standing there, staring at us, the Jew would’ve been a gonner. I’m seriously.

“Let’s go, Cartman!” Ike whined, stomping his foot. “You promised me I could watch you play!”

He tugged on my sleeve, sparing a suspiciously quick glance at Kyle before yanking me away to his room. I always knew Canadians had small eyes, but it seemed to me that was more of a glare than anything else. Still, I couldn’t be sure, especially as I knew that checking Kyle for a reaction was going to result in very unwarranted consequences. Maybe I was just over-analysing the situation and it was just a Canadian thing after all. Yeah, it probably was.

I decided to give my brain a well deserved rest as I sat down on a beanbag and Ike started up his Okama Gamesphere. The top part of his head looked a little twitchy and unstable, but then again, I doubt I looked much better with the fucking Jew making my blood pressure skyrocket like that.

Ike handed me a controller and sat down next to me with a huff.

“You okay, Lil D?” I asked as the game turned itself on.

“Just play.”

And that’s all I needed to hear. See, another reason why I liked the little guy; no pissy bitch emotions, no arguments, no whining about what was right and moral and ethical and whatever other shit _someone_  would accuse me of not being et cetera, et cetera. If Ike had a problem, he kept it to himself.

I played and he watched, and although his slight frown turned into cheery laughs and youthful mocking on the occasions when I fucked up, there was still something slightly off. Now, usually I wouldn’t have given two shits, but I had to play the part. You know, be kind and stuff. If Ike told the police I was always kewl with him, they’d have less reason to believe I killed his older brother.

See, I always knew I was a genius. Now came the difficult part; getting the information out of him. Hormonal pre-teens are really hard to nail down for info, and Ike was no exception to that- especially as he already had puberty forced onto him once already, so I knew shit was going to be hard to extract.

“Lil D, what’s up?”

I shifted myself on the beanbag to face him and placed the controller on the floor.

“The ceiling.” Ike replied snarkily, turning away.

“Quit the attitude.” I snapped, making him face me. “Firstly, that’s the most fucking lame response in the history of fucking ever- trust Canadians to ruin anything remotely funny. And secondly, I’m not Kahl, you moron. I just wanna listen to what you have to say, not try and make everything right.”

Ike rolled his eyes, but actually acknowledged what I said. He seemed to be torn between what to do.

“Come on,” I encouraged. “Sit on my lap and tell Uncle Eric what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know whether that sounds more gay or more child-molest-y.” Ike chuckled, clambering up onto my knees.

“See, it can’t be gay because you’re my main bro at the moment, and that means no homo. Besides, my family is from Nebraska, not Alabama, kid, so if you actually wanted me to fuck you then you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Ike snorted with laughter, but his face turned serious with awe. “I’m your main bro? Seriously?”

“I’m seriously, Lil D. Younger people are always so much kewler than people my age. They’re just a bunch of assholes pretending to be grownups. People my age just won’t let anyone else live the good life without being totally jelly. That’s why you’re my main bro.” I poked him on the chest.

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Ike said, and I felt the beginning of a rant coming on. “I’m just dealing with so much shit at the moment. I’ve got Flora hanging on my arm, but there’s been rumours that she secretly gave a bracelet to Filmore behind the sandpit at recess. I just don’t know who to believe anymore. On the other hand, there’s Sally, who even offered me her milk at lunch, but I’m just not interested. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good bitch and all, but I’m too busy to give her the attention she needs. All the vapes I have just aren’t strong enough to help me deal with the stress of being a child genius. Also, Quaid –yeah, the asshole that’s so irrelevant nobody’s even heard of him- keeps fucking me over, because of course he is, that little Filmore asslicker. I swear he’s behind the sudden drop in my test scores. So now that’s got Mom and Dad mad at me and I can’t even do anything about it. It’s all pointless anyway. I sound really depressing, don’t I? Maybe I should just join that Firkle kid, smoke some Camels and rant about the meaninglessness of existentialism.”

“Fuck, kid, how old are you again?”

“Ten. I know, right? Life sucks more and more each day.” Ike slumped down gloomily. “What about you, though? What’s on your mind?”

I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Nothing too much. You know, the usual, world domination maybe. But as for your problems I’ll give you a piece of advice from personal experience- don’t trust anyone. I mean it. Especially not girls.”

Ike quirked an eyebrow, his eyes glassy. “Apart from that sounding gay as fuck; you’re saying ditching school to bum fags with those faggot Goth kids isn’t a bad idea?”

“Not if you don’t want it to be. I’ll probably join you at some point anyway, bro.” I replied leaning back as Ike nestled into me. Really close to me. Much too close for a Canadian like him. “But we’ll get through all this shit. We’re smart enough to last.”

A strange wetness seeped through my shirt.

Oh fuck no. No, no, no.

Fuuuck.

Ike was always one tough motherfucker, so I didn’t have any idea what to do. I mean, when I was ten the worst I had to deal with was homeless people apocalypses, virtual reality time paradoxes, having to escape from Peru, or even the regret of going zip lining amongst other stuff. But for Ike, I had no idea how to help.

Awkwardly, I just let him sob into my shirt. It was the least I could do to pretend I actually cared about his problems. I had to remember that all of this was just for show. Just for show.

“Why are you crying?” I enquired, bobbing him up and down on my knees as he clutched my hoodie desperately.

Ike sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“You’re- li- like a big -big brother to me!” He cried. See, children would always have something to be sad about. It made me roll my eyes internally. “And I c-can ac-ctually talk to you! You listen when no-one else does.”

“I– no, well, erm.. what about your actual brother?” I stammered. I couldn’t get Ike too attached to me. That wasn’t my style at all.

But then I kind of realised that was a fuck up. Trying to get Ike closer to _him_ was basically shooting myself in the foot. Because Ike was smart, and if I knew he was on my side then that’d make my job a whole lot easier.

“You mean Kyle? He’s no more of a brother to me than you are.” Ike declared with confidence while sniffing. “And anyway, he’s not my real family.”

 Wow. That turned real dark real quick. Honestly, I was kind of shocked at his abrupt confession. Ike was always like Kyle’s shadow, adoring him from the earliest days; that kind of change must’ve been some serious pre-teen angst or something. Whatever! The one thing I knew was that Kyle fucked up, and he fucked up big time.

For me, that was fucking fantastic. It meant that the only person from the Broflovski’s I had to convince was his bitch ass mother. There was no need to worry about Mr Gerald Broflovski. He knew I knew a certain incriminating secret of his, and if he didn’t know yet, he’d soon find out about it- along with the rest of the town.

Ike wiped the tears and whatnot off himself, regaining composure surprisingly quickly. It was then I heard the familiar approaching footsteps, and understood the reason for his sudden poker face.

“Ike?” Kyle opened the door, an enormous, thick fluffy blanket wrapped around himself. Really, it looked like a carbon copy of the very same one I owned. If it weren’t for the obvious size difference, I could’ve easily made the mistake of saying it was mine. “Are you alright in there?”

“Ugh, yeah.” Ike said contemptuously. “You can go away now, I’m busy at the moment.” He gestured to the TV.

“Ike, I know that’s a lie. The two of you were discussing something.”

“Oh for Moses sake, can’t I even get some privacy in my own bedroom?” Ike retorted. “We were talking about the game; I’m watching Cartman play. Satisfied with my answer?”

“So Ma gets you a game for seventy dollars and you’re watching someone else play it? I just can’t understand why you’d want to do that, but that’s beside the point.” He let out a whooping cough that caused him to keel over for a good moment. “I just wanted to check on you, I thought I heard someone crying. From what I heard, that didn’t sound like talking about the game at all.”

“Well, do you see anyone crying?” Ike spat harshly. “And stop spying on my conversations!”

“Ike, I didn’t– It’s not what you think– I wasn’t– I just want what’s best for you, okay? You’re my little brother and I feel like it’s my duty to help you.” Kyle fumbled for an answer, crossing his arms defensively.

“Of course you do.” Ike scoffed, leaning into me. “I don’t need your help. I’ve already got a confidant.” He then made a point of indenting himself as close to me as he could. “This is who you should actually try to be like.”

Oh, I was getting included in the conversation too. How fucking awkward, being stuck in the middle of a fight between the two of them that should _only_ involve the two of them. Not that I minded a bit of gossip and drama- in fact, the opposite- but that was just kind of personal. Now I finally realised why Stan made it a point of vacating the premise whenever the Jew and I got too heated up. Made sense.

Kyle looked aghast, clutching the doorway for support.

“I don’t know why you’re acting all surprised. Actually, I kind of do. You wish you could be as awesome as Cartman.”

“You do realise who you’re talking about?” Kyle chided, gripping the doorway until his pale knuckles turned paper white. “That is literally the man that tried to commit genocide against Jews, Ike. Who wanted to eradicate us along with our religion! And you’re now saying I should try to be like that monster?”

“It was only that one time! Like, six years ago.” I butted in, attempting to save face. “Isn’t that long enough to forgive and forget?”

Kyle seemed to remain unimpressed. “You literally started a fucking cult in order to exterminate my people! You don’t get to dictate when– or if– I ever choose to forgive you! And you’re crazy if you think I’m letting go of that one.”

Ike glared disdainfully at Kyle.

“What?”

“Sounds like something you did too.” Ike seethed. “Isn’t it nice to know that my birth parents were killed, as well as, I don’t know, nearly all the fucking population of Canada!”

“Ike– I, I didn’t mean for it to happen like that! Besides, it was for the greater good! You know that! Ike, listen to me, I told you, the radiation’s gone down enough for Canada to start rebuilding itself again any moment now. You can’t still be mad at me when everything is going to turn out all right!”

Ike spat on the floor in disgust, face set in stone. “You don’t get to dictate when– or if– I ever choose to forgive you, Kyle. I couldn’t have explained it better myself. Because you’ve got to be insane if you think I’m ever going to let go of that one.”

“Ike– please, no!” he desperately begged, sinking down whilst trying to uphold his frail body, choked up on his own words.

“You’re dead to me, Kyle.” Ike hissed, spitting rancid saliva with each maliciously punctuated word.

Kyle said nothing more, shoulders slumped down dejectedly, eyes cast on the floor in a mournful gaze. There was nothing left that could be done, Ike’s words hung over the room like a pall over a coffin. Kyle looked up once, and opened his mouth. But there wasn’t any amount of gay speeches he could do to make things right this time. It seemed as if he knew that.

Judging by the fact that his face screamed regret and sorrow of intensity I never knew existed before, I almost, _almost_ felt pity for him. Almost.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Ike began to sob. Loudly and unabashedly. In true childlike fashion, he had his arms sprawled out and just bawled his little heart out. There was nothing I could do to help the little guy. Canadians were always extremely patriotic people, and Ike no exception to that rule.

Between wails, Ike managed to clamber off my lap and onto his bed, hiding under his duvet. The poor guy probably wanted some privacy mourning his dead parents and his dead country. I didn’t blame him.

I went out of Ike’s room, and in the hallway, I tried to decide what to do. I knew that a couple doors down was the Jew’s lair, and I was sure he wasn’t flying high right now either. He probably wanted some comfort.

But then again, everything he was experiencing was through his own fault. And he was a hypocrite that deserved everything bad that happened to him. I didn’t necessarily _need_ to be nice to him, I just needed to have people see that I wouldn’t actually kill him. Clyde Frog would definitely be displeased if he even thought I was hesitating about that choice.

It seemed obvious that I should’ve just left, but I convinced myself that there was going to be something so satisfying about Kyle’s anguished state.

So I went into his room.

For your information, and to clarify any misconceptions; any kindness on my part was just for show.

The room was exactly in the same state as before, random objects still littered everywhere like landmines. It was dark, barely any sunlight passing through the closed curtains. At first, I couldn’t even find the Jew, but he turned out to be trembling profusely, curled up in fetal position in the corner of his room. I sat down in front of him and hoisted his limp body up into a sitting position instead.

Kyle looked at me blankly for barely a second, just long enough to recognise who I was before he broke down.

Real, heartbroken cries escaped him, completed with hiccups and coughs, gasps for air and everything else. He clung to me mercilessly, leaving marks even through my hoodie. I just let him do what he needed to do because there was no way in hell he was going to let go of me willingly.

To speed up the process of him finishing his mourning, I pulled him closer to me, into a full embrace. I held the weight of all his problems and the weight of him too as he shed tears. Unfortunately, that meant that I had to breathe in his ghastly Jew-y scent that I absolutely despised. There was always something about that wholesome smell of fresh mint that was tantalisingly torturing for my nose. I fucking hated it.

He felt so weak to the touch, and incredibly, and I mean _incredibly_ , hot. I brushed some of his curls out of the way to feel his forehead. Scathingly white. That wasn’t a good sign at all. He was shaking in my arms, his own covered in goose pimples as his teeth literally chattered against one another.

I lifted him up and carried the Jew to bed– he was in no condition to be able to do it by himself– covering him up with his duvet and blanket as he stared up at me, eyes still brimming with tears.

“I’m s-s-still s-so c-c-cold.” Kyle stammered, teeth clanking against one another with alarming force.

I wasn’t sure what to do. Well, I knew what I should do– check his temperature and find a way to bring it down. But did I really want to play nurse when I could just go home and not have to deal with his bullshit?

Kyle read my mind there; he extended his clammy, jittery hand out and managed to squeeze my own in a plea. Fucking asshole trying to make me think that he could manipulate me into doing shit for him by holding my fucking hand.

Roughly, I pulled away as he placed his hand back under his covers.

“Where’s the thermometer?” I asked none too nicely.

Kyle tried to answer, but he couldn’t. In every attempt to speak, he couldn’t get past the first word–  that’s how bad it was. Talking to him was a waste of time, especially as he was quickly losing strength, blinking for too long, opening his eyes slower each time.

Huffing, I went into the Broflovski bathroom, tried searching there, with no success. Plan B, I guessed, would have to consist of me asking someone. Ike was too busy sobbing to gratify my enquiry, and no doubt, if I told him it was for Kyle, he wouldn’t tell me. Mr Broflovski was locked in his office, apparently with sound blockers on, because despite banging on the door pretty fucking loudly, there was no answer. Just to make sure I hadn’t missed any secret hidden location in there, I checked the bathroom again. No such luck.

I returned to Kyle with major trepidation in my gut. He was lying exactly as I’d left him, deathly pale, eyes closed. The only reason I knew he was still alive was because he wouldn’t stop shaking. I felt his forehead with my palm again. It didn’t do anything to soothe my worry, because it seemed that Kyle’s fever rose, but I couldn’t be sure without something more precise to measure with.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, and he looked at me for a couple seconds, green irises dark.

“I don’t know where the thermometer is. And I don’t know what else to do.” I confessed. “I can’t do anything unless I know more or less what your temperature is. If I give you the wrong meds, I can fuck you up beyond repair. ”

There wasn’t anything I could do. I couldn’t gauge how serious it was, whether to take him to the hospital or not, give him more covers or dunk him in a cold bath. I knew nothing of how to deal with sicknesses because the one thing that determined someone’s health was how high was their fever. But I didn’t have a thermometer.

Kyle closed his eyes, a tear cascading down his cheek as he let out a low growl of pain.

Well, there was one way to do it without one. When I was sick as a child, Mom would always come up to my bed with some hot tea and check my temperature.

“C-C-Ca, pl- plea-s-s-s-e.”

I looked at Kyle, helpless and trapped. If I left him like that, who knew what would happen to him? Most likely, what my goal for him in the first place was.

Did I really want Kyle to die?

Yeah. Yeah, I did.

But not in this way. This wouldn’t be killing him, this would be letting him perish of natural causes. And that would be the least satisfying murder ever.

Which meant I had to sacrifice myself yet again. This time, my dignity. With a deep intake of breath, I prepared myself for what I was about to do.

I uncovered Kyle’s colorless forehead from the mass of ginger hair and pressed my lips against it.

He was scorching hot, that was for certain. A temperature of at least 106 **°** F, if not more. I ignored how gay this situation was, and just prayed that Kyle was too exhausted to feel anything.

I pulled back, relieved to have gotten that over with. Then I sprinted to the bathroom, grabbed the proper meds and brought them back to Kyle, pulling up a water bottle from on his desk. His eyes were still closed, and I had to pop the pills out of the packet and open the water by myself. He was far too exhausted to even try to move, which meant that I had to prop his head up for him. Barely, he managed to swallow, spilling water all over me. 

With that disaster finally over, I heard the crunch of gravel on the driveway, only to see Kyle’s bitch Mom arrive home.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Sooo sorry I couldn't update sooner, but anyways, here this is. I don't know what to think of this myself, but I'd love to hear what you people think. Xx


	18. Safe in the dark

Clyde Frog was waiting for me when I returned home.

“Hi Clyde.”

No response.

I gave Fury a couple strokes, flopping down onto my bed and letting out a deep sigh. All it took me was a quick glance at him to be able to understand exactly what he was thinking. And his thoughts scared me.

I gulped.

His beady eyes gave me the impression that he already knew everything there was to know.

Absent-mindedly, I fussed Fury as she clambered onto my legs, waiting for a reply. Surely, it wasn’t going to be a positive one.

After a long stream of silence, Clyde Frog finally spoke.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.” His tone was so much more than simply accusatory.

“Nice to see you too.” I replied awkwardly, not sure what to expect; fearing the very worst. I already knew this conversation was going to be nothing short of pleasant- there was no reason to hope for anything better than awful.

Clyde Frog ribbeted quietly before acknowledging me once more.

“Eric, do I look like a joke to you?” He asked, not bothering to wait for an answer the question, cutting me off. “Really, though? Because if you think I do, then tell me. I’ll make sure not to interrupt your ass-pounding sessions with that _fucking Jew._ ”

Clearly Clyde Frog was more than just angry. He was seething, positively foaming at the mouth as I desperately tried coming up with a reply, an excuse, or anything that could possibly save me from his wrath. But Clyde Frog clearly beat me before I had the chance to say anything.

“Now, what did you do in that devil-infested house?” Clyde Frog enquired. If only Clyde Frog’s facial features could contort, he would have had the most offended look on his face. “Actually, wait, I’d rather not know what you got up to in there. God only knows what kind of diseases you’ve returned with. ”

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “You’re acting like I shoved a thermometer up his ass or something. Really, Clyde, I didn’t do anything that wasn’t just for appearance’s sake.”

“Mhmm. Right.” Clyde Frog hummed with contempt. “You sure look surprisingly guilty for someone who claims to be innocent.”

And  try as I might, my expression didn’t quite meet what I was saying. That being, the start of a cowardly lie.

“I didn’t–”

“Liar!” Clyde Frog called me out on my bullshit immediately. “Although I’m pretty sure I know what you did already, I’ve changed my mind. Confess what you’ve done.” Clyde Frog commanded. “You can trust me to be your secret keeper. I sure as shit won’t tell anyone the disgusting things you did in that forsaken place.”

“But Clyde, I’m seriously! I don’t think I’ve done anything that bad!” I tried once more to deny his accusations.

The frog glared at me in a sneering fashion. “You don’t think. Like, ever. I’m the one responsible for any kind of brainwork, since you clearly can’t be trusted to do anything. Just you remember that.”

“But–”

“SILENCE!” Clyde Frog screeched, the croak of his voice reverberating around the walls, nearly shattering the mirror. “You do not dispute my opinions. Fucking _ever_! You seem to have forgotten that you’re just a bastard -through your own choice, mind you,- whose mother is a whore. A fucking whore, selling herself for money, crack, or just for the fun of it. She doesn’t give two shits about you; deep down you must know that. You’re alone in this bleak, scary world, and you try and contradict _me_? The only thing that cares about your worthless, pathetic ass?”

I bit my lip as Clyde threw more slanders my way. He was right, even if it broke my spirit to hear him say it out loud.

“And it seems to me that you’re going down the same path as that mother that loves you _so_ much. Look at you, breaking up with that nice girl of yours because of who?” Clyde Frog barked out in raucous laughter. “The Jew, of course. Because it’s fun, isn’t it? The chase, the action, the feeling when you wind him up so much you fool yourself into thinking that deep down, he’s more than just angry. That there’s something there apart from utter hatred for you.”

My mouth gaped open, I tried fruitlessly to protest. “Clyde! I’m not– I would _never_ –”

“Eric, you’re about as translucent as glass, for fuck’s sake. I can see right into that head of yours, and you let me, ever since you were small, so I don’t know why you’re acting all indignant now for.” Clyde scoffed maliciously. “But question is, when will you learn? No matter what you do, no matter if you save his fucking life, that fucktard Jew doesn’t care. Mark my words Eric, he didn’t, doesn’t, and won’t _ever_ have any concern for you. Not as a brother, nor a friend, nor as a human being.”

Fury jumped off my lap as I shook fervently with a burst of emotion. I tried blocking my ears, but Clyde Frog’s voice was firmly implemented in my head as well as real life, and he just wouldn’t stay quiet. There was no way to make him stop, and it made me clench my fists as well as my eyes shut.

“At this point, you might as well kill yourself instead of him. Lord knows it would be easier; you have experience at that, don’t you? After all those nights, you know how they went, you remember. Like Mommy, like son, I guess. How’d that candy taste Eric?”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I wailed desperately, slamming my fists into anything and everything I could find. But Clyde Frog wasn’t about to stop.

My cheeks were sodden, as well as my clothes, as Clyde Frog’s voice grew louder and louder, bellowing slurs and slanders at me.

“No-one cares about you! Not a single person in this world! You have no family, no friends, no girlfriend– in short, you have no-one. And you know you’ve hit rock bottom when a fucking plushie is having to talk some sense into you.” Clyde Frog jeered, the throaty cackle of his voice embedding itself into me, cutting deeper than shards into my wrists. “You might as well be dead, and you _know_ it...”

//

“So, are you ready to actually help yourself?” Clyde Frog asked, no discernible calamity in his voice.

I gave one last sniff, then a short nod of approval.

“Good.” Clyde Frog smiled jovially. “We’re going to tackle this one at a time, starting with Heidi and ending at that Jew’s life. Only this time, you’re not going to fuck up. Understood?”

I nodded once more, and set off to do what needed to be done.

Turns out, finding her was much harder than I anticipated. After a whole afternoon of searching in places I thought she’d be– her house, the park, the local library, the possibility that my girlfriend was magically invisible or something dawned upon me. I racked my brains as hard as I could, deciding to meander through the woods in hopes of finding her. Damn, she seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. The forest itself seemed eerily silent, not so much as a chirp or twitter from anywhere, almost as if the animals had hidden somewhere from some deep-rooted horror. The wind blew harsh gusts into my face, making me wish to turn around and return home. I couldn’t find her anywhere, and it was soon becoming dark, the magnificent gleam of sunset covered by a thick shroud of dark gray clouds. All of this was insanely depressing, but only resolved to make me want to find Heidi, my love, just that bit more.

Eventually, I found a small clearing in the overgrown forest, and alas, Heidi!

Standing in the middle of a large, steel bridge, hair swaying in the wind. On the other side was a meadow, with weeds galore. She took one hard look at them, focusing on something in the distance before she clambered up the thick railing, silent as ever, swinging her legs back and forth above a steep decline and a good amount of feet underneath, a river. Water splashed upwards, exposing the sharp, jagged spikes in the form of rocks. Heidi frowned, staring down at the sight beneath her. She looked different than I remembered her. She looked pretty (I assumed) once more, but different, not in the way that she was before. Heidi’s smile was almost tragic-like, and I could spy that above her windswept cheeks her mascara was running more than slightly. With one furtive glance at either side of her, she took a deep breath. Her hands clasped tightly and unclasped the railing, almost as if she was deciding whether or not to.... Oh fuck!

“Heidi, NO!” I screamed, running up towards her as fast as I could.

Startled by the noise, she released her grip.

And just like that, she was falling.

I reached her spot only a second after, and stood where she once was.

Everything  was out of my control.

Before I could even process what happened, she was in the abyss, waving her hands desperately, her screams drowned out only by the rampant whooshing  of the water. The pure despair in her eyes halted only when back of her head hit one of the rocks- as did her screams.

Still open mouthed, Heidi’s lifeless body was carried by the river, along with the lake of blood that shrouded her. I could only stand and stare at the horror before me. It didn’t take long before she was out of my sight completely, the raging river taking her downstream.

For a long time, I couldn’t gather my thoughts together as Heidi’s face flashed in my mind again and again like a broken record.

And I couldn’t help convulsing with laughter.

//

Deeper still into the woods, I trudged on and on, well into the night. My phone, acting as a flashlight, was quickly dying, and if I didn’t hurry up, I’d soon be immersed in complete darkness. Which, apart from sucking total ass, would suit me. Unfortunately though, I needed that light to find what I was looking for; Water Hemlock.

It grew in marshy wetlands, and judging by the squelching of my sneakers, I was getting to a pretty damp place. Thank fuck– my legs were exhausted from carrying me so far for so long. I’d forgotten the way back out ages ago, focusing only on getting nearer to that dear plant that I desperately longed for.

And at last, after hours upon hours of searching, I found it. Its blossoming flowers were sticking out of its lengthy, acid-green stem, with the leaves resembling that of nettles. Exactly what I was looking for. Quickly, I pulled it out of the ground, making sure to preserve its roots. That was the essential part- the roots had to be intact for this to work.

The return home was swift, albeit much too prolonged for the lower half of my body. The closer I was to my destination, the further away I seemed to be. However, at last, I managed to reach the small town that I called my own, the streetlamps illuminating the deserted streets. After only a quick trip to Heidi’s  to examine her suicide note, I would be ready to take out the person I’d been wishing to kill for the past fifteen years of my life.

And by God, it was going to be _glorious_.

Heidi’s room, unsurprisingly, was empty. Everything was left untouched since I last was there– not a single pencil changed its position since our night together. No, there was only one thing that stuck out like a sore thumb, a note left on top of her pillow. How tacky, she couldn’t have been any less original in her placement. Like seriously, that was the most overused cliché ever.

Disinterestedly, I skimmed through it, briefly groaning at her oh-so-woeful goodbyes and pleas for forgiveness. There was only one reason why I was actually reading that piece of garbage, and that was to make sure she didn’t accuse me of anything bad. My interest piqued at the bottom of the letter, where Heidi wrote a specific post-script for me on a separate, unmarked piece of paper:

 ** _P.S_** – ** _Eric,_**

**_I don’t know what to say to you. Or whether I should say anything at all. I don’t know whether you’d care or completely ignore my last ever message to you. You seem to be doing an awful lot of the latter lately._ **

**_You’ve always been a tough nut to crack, but I promised myself I’d reach you somehow, before you’d have the chance to destroy yourself first. Look at me now! Oh, how the tables have turned. After all these years together, you managed to twist the situation around, like you always somehow do. It’s a shame, because for so long I hoped, longed, begged that there was something remotely positive about you. And I’m proud to say, that after the longest time, I figured it out:_ **

**_There is not an ounce of real emotion hidden behind all your facades- your soul is rotten and putrid; your heart only a muscle to pump blood. You care nothing of others, and it took me much too long to understand that all along, I was just a tool. At least admit it after my death, you fucking bastard! Because you knew what you were doing all along, right from the very beginning of the total failure that I dared call our relationship._ **

**_I still don’t understand how you can still sleep at night. No, I was never as strong as you were, nor physically nor mentally, because no matter how much I toss and turn, I can’t get the image of you out of my head. It’s a mystery to me how you can. I hate myself for not fighting back. I hate myself for letting myself be tricked by your sweet, sweet lies. Most of all, I hate myself for actually being with you in the first place._ **

**_Everyone wants to know that they’re secure Know that they’re alright. Safe in the dark. And once, long ago now, it seems, I would’ve said I liked the night. But now, every sunset sends chills down my spine, and every sunrise is my refuge, when I remind myself that there’s still time before the darkness that haunts me will return._ **

**_This has gone on for far too long._ **

**_It’s all your fault._ **

**_-Heidi._ **

Fucking bitch!

I snatched the sheet of paper and crammed it in my pocket, making a mental reminder to burn it when I got home. No use for evidence that would definitely be used against me in a court situation. My walk home was short and brisk, myself, slightly pissed off. The nerve of that bitch was un-fucking-believable!

I sauntered in through the front door, the house devoid of any other humans. Luckily, Fury was at the door, waiting for me. She munched on some kitten food that I prepared for her while I grabbed a vase and placed my precious plant in it.

After, we retreated to my room, where Fury busied herself with tearing and scratching the pages out of one of my old books on the floor while I carefully placed the vase on my desk-out of her reach. I hummed a tune while I worked, making space for it, pushing off any unimportant documents.

“Well, well, well, you seem to have made some progress after all.” Clyde Frog announced, pleased. “And the Hemlock you chose is excellent! It needs only a couple days for the spliced root ends to regrow. You can use that time to make it publicly aware that you would never think of murdering that waste of space Jew. Perfect timing, and perfect plant, if you ask me.”

“Of course it is. This whole thing has to be done immaculately.” I answered triumphantly, throwing myself on the bed and admiring the Water Hemlock.

It was truly astounding. But its purpose would make it even more so.

Clyde Frog and I sat in peaceful silence for a while.

“How’s your little girlfriend?” He enquired croakily.

“Dead.”

Clyde Frog looked stricken.

“No need to worry. She actually wanted to commit suicide. I just helped her along.” I admitted nonchalantly.

Instantly, his plush green face, stretched into a smile, chuckled. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t see that coming. In fact, I kind of hoped it would happen. At least now you have experienced the feeling of utter power when you see someone’s life drain out of them. But how was it for you?”

“Fucking amazing, Clyde. There’s no other way to describe it. That wonderful, stimulating emotion; as I saw the fear flash in her eyes when she cracked her head right open.” I let out an elated sigh. “Best thing is there’s no need to worry about her– she basically did all the paperwork herself.”

We laughed together in the dead of the night.

“My man, Eric, my man. That plant seems to be settling down really quickly. You won’t even have to be with that Jew for a whole day before you have the chance to strike him down and feel those amazing feelings once more. He should be especially weakened due to that illness of his– you won’t need much Water Hemlock to get rid of him.”

“No, I won’t.” I agreed drowsily, undressing myself and changing into nightclothes.

The bed was so warm and comfortable. I’d only now realised that I hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in ages. Stretching out comfortably, I switched the bedside lamp off. As tempted as I was to write down my ambitions for the near future in my journal, I didn’t; it was far too risky in case anyone did actually search my room. Sleep overtook me in a matter of moments, and I was more than glad that it did.

If all went well, tomorrow was going to be the best day of my life.

And Kyle’s last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I'll make it up in the next one, I swear! ;D
> 
> This wasn't originally the way I was planning for this story to go, but let's be real here, this is South Park fanfiction. This was bound to get weird in some way (not that it wasn't already). I'm still not sure what to think of Heidi's death, it was very impromptu.  
> I'd love to know what you guys think-hopefully I didn't go too OOC- so please do give me some feedback! Really, I mean it; I actually read all the comments and take them into consideration for future chapters. Please don't feel you have to compliment me, because I love valid criticisms too!


	19. Fifty ways to say goodbye

As it turns out, killing another human being just isn’t as easy as one might expect. I mean, who would’ve thought? But the best tasting fruit always ripens the longest; and that’s what I was aiming for.

Don’t get me wrong, if only I had the opportunity, the Jew would’ve been dead in a matter of minutes. And I’m seriously. However, he had an unfortunate (for me) way of postponing said death. Turns out, the Jew really did turn sickeningly ill; he wasn’t seen at school for the next three days. Now, this may not seem like a long time for normal people, but consider this situation.

The only time in the history of South Park Kyle Broflovski was out of school, genuinely infirm, was when we were back in fourth grade, and that was only for a single day, mind you. It was after some kidney transplant -that I repressed the thought of so deeply I remembered only minor details about the whole thing- and where normal people would take weeks to recover, Kyle was so adamant about returning back to the hellhole we called school that he had the nurses bring him discharge papers. His mother wouldn’t hear of it, she kept squawking about the fact that the physician didn’t advise to do so, etc, etc, you know how overprotective bitch mothers are. Especially _his_ mother. On the other hand, there was his father, who, being the Jew he is, decided to sign him out, saving a couple bucks in hospital expenses. I wouldn’t say I’m surprised by that fact- but I digress.

It appeared that this would be the opportune moment to strike- everyone would blame it on the illness and I would get off scott-free, but alas, life is a bitch. As is Kyle’s mother, for that matter. Not once, not twice, but for three fucking nights in a row, I lurked outside the house, peeping in his window. And as if by some sort of sixth-sense, Sheila Broflovski would be in that very same room, unmoving from her place beside his bed. Every single time I would just groan, and try and wait it out. See, from the way Kyle’s mother always behaved, one would expect her to lose her patience with him pretty quickly, and leave the room, if only for a moment: to pee, or something, at least. That moment never came– she was too damn stubborn, prying her drooping eyelids open to watch over her sick son. I was often stuck way past midnight, playing the waiting game with her, before ultimately losing- trying to stay awake and upright like her until I finally gave up and retreated back home, defeated.

Each time Clyde frog would cast me a mournful glance, and I would shrug my shoulders, because what could I do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Likewise, Heidi didn’t come to school either.

Aloud, I wondered why, along with all the other befuddled students- I didn’t even dare try to remind myself what actually occurred, for fear of laughing my ass off in front of a bunch of teens. Why, you may ask? Well, that would turn the gossip onto me. And believe me when I tell you, it’s never a good idea to be the victim of teenage drama.

Some of the rumours that started floating around were completely and utterly ridiculous. By far, the most hilarious one was that the two of them ran away together and eloped. Ha! Unless he was some sort of necrophiliac, that was extremely unlikely. Wait, could you marry a corpse? Whatever.

Eventually, all her girlfriends actually found her suicide notes. Naturally, Mr and Mrs Turner were absolutely devastated, and that meant an awkward assembly mourning Heidi’s untimely demise. It also meant a funeral, about a week after the discovery.

“We are here to mourn the death of a bright, beautiful young girl, by the name of Heidi. A good, devout Christian, who I’m sure, now resides with Him in heaven.” Friar Maxi droned on and on. Oh my fucking God, he just wouldn’t shut the fuck up! “Now, let us pray for her spirit.”

Organs started making whatever abounding obnoxious f’tangy noises they made in the resemblance of a grieving song as we all got on our knees.

I looked around.

Many of the girls had streaks of mascara running all the way down their cheeks, holding candles and fucking weeping their poor little hearts out. I pitied them _so_ much. Yeah, right. Half of them didn’t even know Heidi to begin with. Many of the pussies –excuse me, I meant guys– weren’t any better; Kenny had to hold Butter’s shoulder in order to stop him from physically storming over to the empty casket and jumping in it out of grief. I forgot to mention the fact that despite having the police involved for a week, her body was nowhere to be found, and that meant we had to do without. Still, that was quite a positive sign for me- in case I ever needed to throw a dead body someplace I’d know where to go. Theoretically, of course.

After a short eulogy from Heidi’s father (that was originally supposed to be spoken by her mother, but she was wailing way too hard about her little baby being dead to actually form a coherent sentence) Bebe walked up to the podium. She was holding up surprisingly well for a girl. Either that, or she was wearing some seriously waterproof mascara.

“I may not be the most, well... qualified person to be standing up here. Heidi and I were never the best of friends, nor were we ever particularly close –and that, I now regret with every ounce of my being– but, seeing as I was the first one to find... her... letter, I was faced with a difficult decision.” Bebe cleared her throat, trying to get rid of some unseen lump that formed there. “And after much deliberation and consultation with Friar Maxi over there, I came to the conclusion that I should read Heidi’s final goodbyes out to everyone in attendance.”

There came a sniffling and a few muffled sobs from amongst the pews.

“Well, here goes nothing.” Bebe took a deep breath, shuffling the creased paper and bringing it closer to her face. “ _I’ll keep this note brief. I doubt there’s many of you that’d want to read me rambling on for too long. Come to think of it, I doubt many of you would want to read this in the first place._ ”

At that, muted whispers arose amongst the people. Damn, Heidi called out all of their lying asses.

“ _I just want to say I’m sorry; to everyone. To Mom and Dad especially_ – _I couldn’t have wished for better parents. To my few close friends, who’ve always been there by my side and to any acquaintances whom my death may inconvenience_ – _I’m so sorry. Don’t worry about the reason for why I’m doing this, let me remain as a statistic for teenage suicide and I’ll be happy. If anyone asks, just say it was depression that drove me to this. A prolonged, aching sort of emptiness, darkness.”_

Luckily, the people around me were much too absorbed to even realise that was a personal callout to me. Wait– why was I so paranoid in the first place? No-one knew the significance of those words apart from me. Especially with some personal embellishments added.

“ _Lastly, to my beloved Eric. I can’t express how much sorrow I feel now that I know I’m leaving you. Although I’ve never admitted it, I’ve always loved you far more than I’ve let on. I feel like I’ve said this about a thousand times now, but once again, I’m sorry. For everything. Nevertheless, one day, I hope we’ll meet again in the afterlife, when I’ve learned from my mistakes, and not push you away, so we may be together forever. Love, Heidi.”_

The crowd broke into tears. And by that, I mean _everyone_. There was not a single person in the fucking church that didn’t feel at least a bit of pity at the final lines. See, I always knew I was an excellent writer.

Graciously, I walked up to the podium. It was time for my personal eulogy for Heidi. Something, that, at first, I was unwilling to partake in, since there weren’t many words could I use to describe her apart from cunt.

With a sweeping glance at my audience, I noticed something off. Kenny wasn’t crying. In fact, he looked kinda pissed off while Butters was blubbering into his arm. Oops. I may have been a little too flowery and poetic with my addition to Heidi’s suicide note. I guess I’d just have to make up for it with my speech– convince Kenny that I did not meddle with Heidi that badly.

“Hello everyone. It means so much to me that all of you could make it to my little muffin’s funeral.” I wiped away a crocodile tear. Little muffin my ass, that’s what I really wanted to say. “I’m sorry– I should probably refer to Heidi by her name. But it hurts to face the fact that she’s not here with us, as I’m sure you already know. This is a particularly harsh moment for us all, and I appreciate the fact that despite our religious differences, we’re all here together to mourn the loss of my little– our Heidi.”

Kyle –finally well enough to be let out of the house, waved his handkerchief in the air. I noticed how awkward he was being throughout the sermon; Stan had to pull him up and sit him down at all the appropriate moments as he failed miserably at pretending to know the words to the hymns. During the prayers, I saw him mouth stuff, but I knew full well it was some incantation in Hebrew. Fucking Jew, tainting the church with his dark curses.

Volcanoes of tears erupted from the girls at my words, and all the guys too– save for Kenny, who narrowed his eyes. Oh shit, I’d have to step it up.

“We can all unite on one thing– the fact that we’re here is terrible in itself. However, we can’t change the past. I, for one, know that more than anyone else in this room. I’m not afraid to admit it– I’ve had my fair share of mistakes.”

The onslaught of mutters didn’t come as a shock. Fuckers, acting like they were all so perfect. I’d fucking show them...

“I don’t know about you, but I’m taking this tragic moment, and hereby transforming it into something beautiful- an epiphany, if you will. Because although I can’t change what happened to my little muffin, but I can try and make myself a better person for her– and I encourage you to do the same. From today onwards, the world shall see the new and improved Eric Cartman, and I hope you can say the same for yourselves.”

Deafening applause.

I mean, it was kind of a crappy eulogy in the sense that it wasn’t about Heidi whatsoever, but, after listening to literally everyone prattle on about her, it must’ve been refreshing to finally hear about something else for a change. Humans are inherently selfish creatures, and by making it personal to every individual in the room, I achieved what I wanted. It may have cost me a shit ton of pride, but I was now one hundred percent certain that I was no longer viewed as a threat.

Squeezing out a few more fake tears for show, I held up my hand.

“Thank you, really. If you’ll would allow me to take my leave. I’d prefer to be alone right now.”

And with that, I took my leave.

The first step outside of the church was like a breath of fresh air. Oh fuck yeah! I skipped all the way home in pure joy. Not only did I get what I want, I was also spared the next hour or so whilst all those fucks were stuck in that stuffy, rotting place!

Usually, when someone’s died, the pathetic fallacy requires it to be all stormy and brooding. But not in this case; the sun was gleaming, the white fluffy snow reflecting like a dozen diamonds, glittering. Now that was fucking kewl.

I was in such a good mood I even hummed myself a tune on the way there. I was genius! Now I could extract all the poison from the Water Hemlock roots and make use of it. The sooner the better.

To speed things up, I decided to take a shortcut through the woods. I mean, why not?

Let me tell you why the fuck not.

Victoriously dancing, I made my way through the forest. Everything seemed fine, like things usually do before fucking up– birds were chirping, squirrels squeaking, butterflies flying and all that other gay shit.

Until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Under any other circumstance, I would’ve assumed it was the wind, or a falling stick or something. But wind and or falling sticks did not tighten their grip and yank me back to face them.

No, humans did that.

One particularly angry human, in fact.

I didn’t even see the punch coming until I was stumbling backwards, cradling my face.

“Ow! What the–”

Another punch.

“HEY!”

A kick in the balls. I was on my knees instantly, at the mercy of the person above me.

They yanked my face upwards, tugging my hair.

“Kinny?”

To label him as just an angry human was an understatement. No, he wasn’t human anymore. The pure rage within him brought out something I had only seen once before in my life. Something fiercely primal. The last time I witnessed it was when he was defending his sister against a group of bullies. He was always like a brother to me, so that sudden attack on _moi,_ of all people, was astounding.

This time, I tried blocking his oncoming assault, but it was obvious that he was stronger than ever before– and that wasn’t only due to his inner rage. Fuck, I regretted skipping kickboxing sessions. It was obvious he’d been practicing, _hard_.

I’ll spare myself the expense of having to recount how badly he whooped my unsuspecting ass.

After an eternity of enduring his blows, finally, oh-fucking finally, he finished with me, letting me slide down onto the ground.

I could barely make out his shape as he strutted back and forth furiously, thanks to my two new black eyes forming.

“You’re lucky I have at least a tiny bit of self-control, you fucking bastard.” Kenny retorted.

“This is self control?” I tried to speak clearly through my busted lip, but the ‘s’ sounds ended up sounding really fucking lispy.

“Trust me, I would’ve broken every bone in your body by now if I could. Starting with your fingers and ending with your spine; making you feel as much pain as fucking possible. Maybe then you’d understand.”

I crossed my arms. The action itself caused me to wince. “Why! What the fuck have I done?”

“Don’t make me hurt you any more than I already have; I swear to fuck, Cartman.” Kenny hissed, punching a nearby tree to diffuse his temper. “Because if you fucking think I’m going to let you get away unscathed– after what you’ve done...”

“I haven’t done shit, Kinny!” I protested as best as I could.

He turned around to face me, taking a calculated step forward. His demeanour made me want to laugh– it was fucking comical how serious he thought he was.

I tried to bite back a smirk. Instantly, at the sight, Kenny grabbed my hand.

“Stop being so fucking gay, Kinny! Let go of my ha-aaah!” I all but near yelped in agony at the end.

He was the one smirking now, twisting my pinky backwards, looking so fucking pleased with himself.

“Kin-ny.” I whimpered in almost a plea, discomfort radiating throughout my hand. I heard broken fingers didn’t hurt too badly, but he wasn’t intent on breaking it just yet. No, of course the sadistic fucker wanted to toy with it first.

“What did the real letter say?” Kenny asked, still not letting go. I tried scratching and pulling and writhing; all were ineffective.

“I have no idea what you me-AH! KINNY!” I replied as I heard the snap of my little finger and I couldn’t help letting out a high-pitched scream of utter anguish.

Kenny clenched one fist as the other transferred itself onto the next finger along.

“I’m serious, Cartman. All that shit you said at the church? That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“No it isn’t!” I knew that Kenny knew that I knew that was a shitty denial.

I’ll concede and admit I could’ve thought this through better. Kenny twisted my finger around itself, using my broken pinky to bend it even further out. Nothing fazed Kenny; I threw myself at him, but he regarded that move as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He just grabbed my other arm and pinned it backwards, effectively locking me in place.

“Cartman, stop being a stubborn bastard. You think Heidi would seriously write all that lovey-dovey shit? It sounds like an extract out of your diary more than anything else!”

“It’s called a journal, you uncultured white tr-Aah-sh piece of shi-Ow-t! And no! I had nothing to do with her suicide!” I objected.

Letting out a dissented seething sound through his nostrils, Kenny let go of my hand and backed away. He held his head in his hands and groaned audibly.

“There’s just no getting through your thick skull, is there? Fine! Be an unrelenting bastard, but at least tell me what was the cause of her so-called ‘depression’, you know, the thing that she blames instead of you.”

“Firstly, it’s not my fault she has a victim complex and won’t admit anything to anyone. Secondly, I have no clue- ask her, why don’t you?”

I agree that I _might’ve_ earned that punch in the face.

“For fuck’s sake! Can you not?” I grumbled as I wiped away some blood dribbling onto my lower lip.

Kenny glared at me. “Your eulogy was completely shit, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m _so_ sorry!” I answered back as sarcastically as I could muster without earning myself another blow. “Do tell me what you wanted me to say! Fifty ways to say goodbye? A hundred reasons to miss Heidi? I’m serious-lah, Kinny; I’ll improve for next time.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Kenny spat on the ground.

“What the actual fuck is going on here?!”

A voice came from not far away, one that I could recognise from a thousand others. That same voice that haunted me day and night for years on end. Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, the Jew arrived to witness my abuse!

He still looked pale (as if that was a shocker, though), decked out in all black, even ditching that ugly-ass green hat of his that he was always so reluctant to part with.

One look at the scene before him and the Jew broke out in anger. To my complete and utter bewilderment, he threw himself at Kenny, wailing his arms and thrashing around. Now, Kenny may have been more experienced, with better technique, but if you think he stood a fucking chance against Kyle you clearly have never seen the Jew pissed off before. There’s just no winning against him in that state.

So, Kenny got his fair share of beats too, and although I was extremely glad, it didn’t change the fact that I was still shocked as to why. I mean, why would the Jew do anything for me?

After, he came up to me and knelt by my side, helping me up.

Kenny looked just as confused as I felt.

“I’m not going to ask what the hell you did to him, since I can clearly see that. But what on earth caused you to react this way?” Kyle demanded, pulling me upwards.

After a moment of spluttering and stuttering, Kenny replied. “He messed around with Heidi’s suicide note! It’s his fault she’s dead! I know it, Kyle, I fucking know it was him!”

“That’s an unfounded accusation, Ken. You can’t just go around hitting people without any concise evidence of anything happening!” Kyle announced. I stared up at him, wondering whether he knew how hypocritical he was being right now, or whether he was just _that_ oblivious.

“But.. But..” Kenny gesticulated at himself and then at Kyle.

“That’s different.” Kyle said, and that was the end of the discussion.

Oh my fucking god. Kenny’s bruised up face was priceless. He shook his head disbelievingly.

“But what if I do have evidence?” Kenny asked, and Kyle raised his eyebrow. “I know exactly when he swapped out Heidi’s note for something he wrote himself.”

“Sounds unlikely, but go ahead.”

“Last Sunday.” Kenny revealed proudly, sparing me a dirty glare. “Around noon.”

Before I could even protest his claims, Kyle barked out in a sharp laugh.

“Can’t be.”

“What do you mean, ‘can’t be’? I want some sort of explanation, because you sound crazy trying to bend over backwards to save him.”

“Fine.”Kyle raised one eyebrow, as if taking it as a personal challenge. “People are usually the manifestations of the five people they’re closest with. Heidi, being Cartman’s girlfriend, was pretty damn close to him,” Kyle’s voice wavered when he said that, but nevertheless, he continued, “So it makes sense for her letter to sound like something he’d write too. Now, if you’d stop trying to defame Cartman and let Heidi rest in peace, that would be very much appreciated, don’t you think?”

Kenny snorted in contempt. “That doesn’t exclude the fact that his absence from home around that time would’ve fitted the time-frame for something like that perfectly. I went over to his house that day, and he wasn’t there! Kyle, this is Cartman we’re talking about! He’s fucking evil! You were always the first one to say it!”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I know it wasn’t him, Ken.”

“Oh yeah?” Kenny mocked sneeringly, “How come?”

Nonchalantly, Kyle answered.

“Because he was at my place.”

Only after he said it out loud, did he realise the connotations of what he said. Blood red blush rose to his face, sitting on his cheeks. I stared at them both, open mouthed, and shaking my head.

“No I wasn’t!” I chipped in before anyone else could say a word.

“Fuck, that wasn’t what I meant, Ken!” Kyle corrected himself, turning to face me. “You, shut up. I’m saving your ass here, we might as well be honest.”

But Kenny was unconvinced. In fact, quite the opposite. He nodded his head once, slowly, before speaking:

“All of this actually makes a whole lot more sense now.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ken! I– no– we’re not!” Kyle stomped his foot, the white snow spreading itself around.

“No, it’s fine, Kyle. I’m cool with gay people, you know that. It’s just that I always thought that you’d actually go for someone worthwhile–”

“HEY!”

“You’re not helping your case, fatass.” Kyle muttered to me. “No, you got it all wrong, Ken. I have a girlfriend! So did he, as a matter of fact.”

“There’s no use denying it now, Kyle. Yeah, it really does all come together if you think about it. The sexual tension was always there. Fuck, this does come as kind of a shocker, though.” Kenny began talking to himself, ignoring our protest. “You know what? I’ll leave you two to it. I don’t even want to know the details.”

“Ken, will you just fucking listen for once in your life?” Kyle called out desperately, but Kenny was already departing, walking away at a brisk pace.

Kyle turned to me.

“Well, fuck.” He said.

“That’s one way to put it.”

If I wanted to kill him before, the feeling was now increased tenfold.

With my head in my hands, I started heading the opposite direction. I was so fucked. Kenny would tell Butters immediately –the fucker always had some sort of strange affection for that little weirdo– and if Butters knew, the whole skewl knew.

“Where the hell are you going?” Kyle yelled, rushing up to me.

“Home.”

“In that case, I’m coming with you.”

“Uh, no?” I replied, offended that he’d even assume I’d let him in my house just as all the rumours were about to start. “You got me into this shit, and you think I want to look at you right now?”

“It wasn’t intentional!” Kyle growled harshly, the blush mixing with his usual angry red. “You think I want to be involved with you romantically? Exactly! What we need to do is think up of a solution before the problem begins.”

A solution before the problem begins, he said? Well, I wasn’t opposed to that.

“Fine. But you better not tell anyone we’re going to my place. Make up some alibi– make sure people know you’re not associated with me, especially now.”

“Of course.” Kyle agreed, taking out his phone.

He was falling right into my trap, wasn’t he?

With home so close by, I could practically _feel_ his final breath in anticipation with what was about to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, next chapter, things are gonna get good!
> 
> What did you think of this one, though? It was supposed to posted Friday, but I decide to add a little more before updating this fic. Thanks for your patience, hopefully I didn't disappoint! Also, sorry that I didn't get the chance to reply to the comments last chapter; I will this time.


	20. Anything for you

“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked as we stepped inside my house and took off our shoes.

“Yeah, something fizzy. Anything’ll do, as long as it’s sugar free.” Kyle replied. Typical fucking Jew– he was already sauntering around the living room as if he owned the damn place. He wanted to act like that? Fine.

“Great, get something as well, while you’re at it.” I quipped, rushing up the stairs before he could stop me. Besides, did I look like his fucking wife or something? I wasn’t there to serve the fucker, but to kill him.

“Hey!” Kyle exclaimed indignantly, pouting up at me. “You’re such an asshole. I hope you know that.”

“Trust me Jew, there’s not a day in which you don’t remind me of that oh-so unfortunate fact.” I replied, sticking my tongue out at him. “Now hurry up and get me my drink.”

Kyle huffed, but turned around and headed towards the kitchen. I heard Fury hiss as she darted from there back into the living room, away from him. Obviously, she hadn’t forgotten what he did to her. And I couldn’t forget that too.

Quickly, I rushed to my bedroom; this was my only chance to prepare. I took the Water Hemlock out of its vase, and emptied all the water out by chucking it out the open window. Then, ever so carefully, I used a pen knife conveniently situated on my desk and split the bulbous root ends, letting the clear, fluid poison flood back into the vase.

I heard the steady creak of Kyle’s footsteps on the stairs.

Panicking a shit ton more than just slightly, I looked around the room as a sinking feeling dawned upon me when I realized..

I completely forgot about the flowers.

Fuck!

My original plan had been to stay until the end of the funeral, and nick some from Heidi’s grave. I was sure there was going to be some littered around her tombstone that I could take for myself, but since I left early, it escaped my memory. Well, there was nothing I could do now but put the Hemlock back into the vase and hope that it’s immune to its’ own toxins. There was literally no other option but that– how suspicious would it be if I had a vase on my desk with only liquid in it? Anyways, I did what I had to do, praying for the best.

The sound of footsteps became louder, up on the landing now. With one quick scan of the room, I surveyed any other potential fuck ups. Clyde Frog was still sitting on my bed, evil grin plastered on his face.

Just as luck would have it, the doorknob began to turn.

Without thinking, I grabbed him and looked for a place to hide my froggy friend. I guessed the closet would have to do for now– I didn’t have enough time to think of a better solution.

I threw myself on my bed as the door opened, trying to at least pretend I was composed. On the inside, my heart was beating against my ribcage like a feral beast. Because there was a very likely chance that he’d notice something out of place, and that meant game over for me.

“Nice plant.” He merely stated. The statement itself soothed me, but the way his brow furrowed slightly, as if he were trying to figure something out only put strain on my already over-active heart.

“Thanks.”

Kyle deposited two glasses of drink onto the bedside table with a clink.

“There. Happy now?” Kyle snapped, but there was a slight smile on his face nevertheless. “Now, move up, fatass. You’re taking up the whole damn bed and I want to sit down.”

“Pff, no way in hell.” I bickered, looking up at Kyle defiantly. “This is my fucking bed and I’m not moving.”

Kyle raised his eyebrows, smile widening at the challenge. “Fine. You leave me with no other option then.”

The bed creaked loudly as he got on top of me. And by that I mean he literally placed himself upon my stomach, acting all nonchalant and shit, grinning down at my befuddled face. He crossed his long legs and wriggled his bony hips, that ever-present smirk plastering his features not dispersing in the slightest.

“Get off me! What the fuck do you think I am? Your personal pillow or something?” I fumed, desperately trying to push him off.

He laughed that damned laugh of his, clearly enjoying my torment –I could tell from the way his pupils dilated until nearly all of the green in his iris was encapsulated by that darkness, turning into a burning emerald at the very outskirts. And the way he half bit his lower lip after, pearly teeth sinking in to prevent any more unsolicited outbursts.

I stared up at him.

To be absolutely honest, I think we both knew it was a half-assed attempt to want to do so in the first place.

See, that was always the thing with Kyle; there were only ever two options available when he was around– he was either extremely pissed off at me for some reason or he acted like _this_. And although I hated when Kyle got bitchy at me, I fucking despised when he pulled this type of shit. Because it never failed to make my stomach all queasy and just..   _fucking **ugh**_ , if you get what I mean. I knew it was the Jew in him that did this to me, and this time was no different.

Reluctantly, he dismounted as I unwillingly budged over to give him some room to lie down next to me.

“So, what the fuck was that gay shit about?” I questioned him.

“I told you already, you left me with no choice. And besides, if I get what I want;” He paused for a moment, gesturing to all the space he had around him, “Then it’s not gay.”

“Bullshit.” I objected, jabbing at his bony ribs. “That was totally fucking _gay_. I bet you do this to all the boys on the block. Little Jewish whore, that’s what you are.”

“God, you don’t ever stop, do you? You always take things too far. It was just a joke– stop overanalyzing my every action, asshole.” Kyle scowled unpleasantly.

“Then stop doing stupid shit!” I countered.

“Oh, I’m sorry for actually trying to make you feel better.” Kyle replied sarcastically, sitting up.“It won’t happen again, I promise.”

I sat up too, wearing a matching frown. “What confuses me is why you feel like it’s your moral fucking duty to make me ‘feel better’ in the first place! I’m fucking fine; I don’t need you to try and interfere with whatever the fuck I’m doing.”

“Are you sure, though?” Kyle snarled. “I don’t know about you, but I think you seemed to be begging for help in the woods, were you not?”

“And a fat load of help you were!” I snipped at him. “Look what you did! Now the whole school will think...– Fuck, I don’t even wanna know what they’re going to think.”

“Shut the fuck up, fatass!” Kyle retorted a little too quickly.“I was saving your ass there by telling Kenny the truth. It’s not my fucking fault Kenny interpreted it the wrong way, so stop blaming me for his mistake!”

“But it _is_ your fault! If only you’d have kept your fucking mouth shut, for once in your worthless fucking life, then maybe, just maybe, none of this would’ve happened!”

Kyle scoffed incredulously. “Yeah, sure. If you didn’t start screaming and wailing like a fucking baby when Kenny whooped your ass, then I wouldn’t have needed to come over in the first place!”

“Oh, my bad then.” I corrected myself, matching his sarcastic tone from a couple moments before. “No, you’re absolutely right, Jew, as you always are. It’s not like someone _breaking your fucking fingers_ would hurt!”

I lifted up my hand to show him, making sure to extend my (thankfully, still working) middle finger. It looked like the sight sickened him, he recoiled back slightly, scrunching up his nose. I looked down at my hand, and when I realised that that body part belonged to me, I shuddered in disgust.

They were knobbly and a strange mix in-between blood red and prune purple, completely mangled, twisting over one another in the most unnatural way. I hadn’t even noticed how bad it really was until I saw for myself, and as soon as I understood, the utter agony settled in.

I had to bite back a scream.

Without a word, Kyle exited the room, hand over his mouth, as I sat on the edge of my bed, continuing to observe what no longer resembled my hand. I was in some state of stupor, afraid to look away from it.

I would’ve sat like that for an eternity if it weren’t for a voice coming from the closet. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“This is your fucking chance, kid!” An annoyed ribbet came from inside the closet. “Don’t blow it, you moron!”

Oh, right, yeah.

I blinked, and ignoring the burn of letting my hand slide down to my side, snatched the vase and went back to the two glasses of drink. The bubbles were few and far between, obviously de-carbonating whilst I wasted precious time.

Obviously, since this wasn’t his house, the Jew didn’t hesitate in filling the glasses up to the very brim. Because wasting someone else’s shit was absolutely fucking fine by Jewish standards, at least. I fucking hated him. Leaning over, I sipped some of the sparkling lemonade from it, then proceeded to fill it back up with the poison inside the vase. The clear liquid dribbled down, making little plops along the way. Just before the glass overfilled, I pulled the vase back up and settled it back on the desk. Luckily, the Hemlock plant inside didn’t seem affected. Maybe it was just immune.

Everything looked just the same as it did before, so I took a long gulp of the other drink, both to show the Jew which glass was mine, and because I seriously needed something to keep me upright. I felt like I was going to faint, but whether that was because of my hand, or the fact that I was about to commit murder, I wasn’t entirely sure.

I sat back down on the bed, leaning over. After a couple minutes, Kyle returned, dragging practically the whole fucking medicine cabinet with him.

Muttering something along the lines of ‘Don’t fucking need you, my ass. Such a fucking disaster without me.’ He got on his knees in front of me and held out his hand. Gently, he pulled my own out, and proceeded to play doctor, covering it in an icepack and then taping my digits against those medical lollipop sticks to straighten them. I hissed and whined and complained throughout, but Kyle persisted in doing what needed to be done.

Finally, he pulled back, and popped two tablets and dropped them into my bandage-free hand. I placed the pills into my mouth and tried reaching over for the rest of my drink. Kyle decided to take pity on me, taking my glass and holding it up for me as I swallowed them down, taking a couple of sips more than I needed. Fuck, why did medical shit always taste like...well... shit?

“At least now we’re even for last weekend, fatass.” Kyle stated when he turned to place the empty glass on the bedside table, just before I was about to swallow.

In my shock, I spat the lemonade out. Like, a full, actual, spray out of my mouth and nostrils simultaneously.

“What weekend? Between coughs, I managed to splutter out. “We– _I_ did nothing last weekend.”

Kyle screeched loudly. “Cartman, seriously!””

“Yes fucking seriously! I have no idea what you were doing then, but I sure as shit was nowhere near you.”

But he wasn’t referring to that. I looked up from the floor to see his clothes drenched wet. Oh yeah. I forgot he was standing in front of me.

“What am I going to tell my Mom?” He lamented, trying to wipe off some of the droplets off his black suit. It was useless. “Oh Moses, these were my best fucking mourning clothes, you moron!”

“Does that imply that you’ve got some less nice mourning outfits stashed away somewhere?” I chuckled as he continued panicking frantically.

“Shut up!” He snapped as he paced around the room, groaning; “I’m all sticky now!”

“That’s what she said.”

Kyle turned around to glare at me harshly. “You’re really making me understand and sympathise with Kenny at the moment.”

“Jesus, get your fucking panties out of a wad, _Kahl_. Just, give them here, and I’ll give you something else to wear.” I suggested.

“Really?”

“Anything to stop your bitching, Jew. Anything for you!” I sighed, exasperated.“Just as long as you chill the fuck out.”

Kyle huffed, but stepped to the door of my closet, ready to open it–

“Let me!” I announced, jumping up and pushing in front of him. Like hell I was going to let him rummage around where Clyde Frog was in hidden in practically plain sight.

“That’s the nicest I’ve ever seen you be.” Kyle sized me up and down, glancing uncertainly at the storage space. “How many dead bodies have you got in there?”

My lungs collapsed in on themselves at his words, blood running cold. I could only falter, aghast, at his critical thinking skills. Brain short-circuiting, I gripped at the door, even though, logically, I knew he was only joking. There was just something insanely fucking petrifying about my victim casually talking about death as if it were nothing.

I swore I could hear sirens off in the distance.

Did he already know? Was this him testing me? This was _the Jew_ we were talking about here, of course he had some ulterior motive behind this! Oh, fuck, he already knew, didn’t he? That was exactly the reason why he hadn’t had even a sip of his own yet! He claimed he was so thirsty! Kyle knew, oh he fucking knew all along... The sirens were blaring louder and louder, ready to cart my ass off to jail for attempted homicide. I didn’t want to go to jail!

My breathing quickened– I couldn’t get in enough air– my throat constricted itself as I hyperventilated, unable to stop.

I was going to pass out any moment now.

“Cartman? Cartman!” Kyle’s voice made me shudder. No, not just shudder; I was shaking uncontrollably, liquid flowing out of my eyes that wasn’t tears. “I’m calling an ambulance!”

“No!” I wheezed, weakly as I did. “No ambulance!”

The sirens blared onwards, passing my window and zooming off further into the distance. Thank fuck! It helped me breathe just that little bit more easily, as my shakes turned into shivers. Slowly, I wiped off the milky residue from my eyes.

“Are you okay?” Kyle asked, squeezing my shoulders. “You looked like you were at death’s door just a second ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I lied.

Unfortunately, Kyle was immune to my bullshit.

“No you’re not; go lie down on your bed.” He ordered as he grabbed my arm and dragged me over there until I was laying on my side. I would’ve protested, I really would’ve. The only problem was that Kyle was right– I felt incredibly fucking weak.

“There. Rest for a moment.” He said, pleased with himself as he began undressing.

I saw him lift up his shirt, midriff exposed, pale and slender, as the shirt slid over his arms and neck effortlessly.

I swallowed.

Fuck.

Then, his pants.

 I couldn’t breathe, but this time, for a different reason entirely.

The juxtaposition between the darkness of them and the smooth, unblemished whiteness of his upper thighs was exposed fully. His belt was only an accessory, but still fell to the floor with a clang that made me twitch. His hipbones stuck out, and it shocked me to see that they were also the same tone as the rest of him. I half-expected to see some faded yellowness, or any sign of a love bite anywhere; it was a shock to me when there was none to be seen.

Nichole had obviously not treated him right.

Worst of all, he just disrobed himself with such grace– definitely not sultry in the slightest, nor bashful, but in the kind of gloating way that just screamed _Kyle_ , those same hips swaying ever so slightly as he walked, going up that little bit too high on his body (for my comfort) when he bent down to reach for his trousers, but of course, he was oblivious to it.

And I wasn’t.

What the actual fuck just went through my head?

Of course he wasn’t fucking bashful, I was a guy for fuck’s sake! I’d seen him in just his underwear hundreds of times, at least twice a week at skewl when we had Physical Education. Then what the fuck were those thoughts about? He could save the sultry stuff for his girlfriend. I didn’t know why that kind of vocabulary swam through my mind in the first place. He was a Jew! Not a supermodel.

But just the way ass moved as he sauntered over to the closet made me wonder how the fuck he wasn’t on a PlayBoy magazine cover.

What the fuck?

I slapped my face. Hard.

“Cartman?” Kyle questioned, turning around to look at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He took a couple steps towards me, leaning down to scrutinize my face, twisting my face in his hands. “Now that I look at you, your eyes _are_   kind of glassy. Maybe I should take you to the doctor, or something, at least.”

“Just get yourself dressed, Jew. Don’t worry about me.” I all but growled as I batted him away from me. He wasn’t supposed to be acting all nice now– he was supposed to be on the floor with a seizure, moments away from death, goddamnit!

“Sometimes I just can’t help but worry about you.” Kyle muttered, returning to the closet and opening it. “

“Aw! Kahl cares about me!” I mocked him sneeringly.

Kyle replied, completely serious and unfazed. “Of course I do. Say what you will, fatass, but I do. I know we’re not friends, no, far from it, in fact, but nevertheless, I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

“That’s strange, considering practically all of my scars are from you.” I snorted, chest constricting without my consent.

“Oh please, like you’re one to talk. I’ve had a mouthful from everyone seeing me without clothes about the consequences of fights with you.”

I peered at his body again, but just couldn’t see it. He looked perfect to me.

Once again, I internally cringed at that thought.

“Whatever.” I concluded.

He rummaged around, taking one of my favourite shirts and my longest sweatpants. As he put them on, I prayed that all of my strange and unnatural thoughts dispersed, and alas, it seemed that way for the time being.

Everything seemed okay, until the unthinkable happened.

“What’s that?”

He leaned forward, picking up a familiar to me green object.

“Leave Clyde Frog alone!” I yelled at him, offended as he held him up for me to see.

“You’ve still got this old thing?” He enquired, tracing his forefinger along the seams of my plushie. “I thought you killed it ages ago.”

“How dare you go through my shit! He’s mine!” With a newfound strength, I got up and marched over to him, snatching Clyde Frog from his Jew-y grasp. “You don’t have the fucking right to touch him!”

I held Clyde Frog to my chest and stormed back over to my bed like a sulking toddler.

“Cartman, chill out, it’s just a plushie. I wasn’t going to do anything with it.”

“Fuck you!” I barked. “Clyde Frog is his own person.”

Kyle sighed, taking a seat next to me. “Cartman, it’s only a toy. It doesn’t have emotions, or a personality, for that matter. You know, it’s okay to have a sentiment for your old plushie, but don’t you think you’re a little too old to pretend it’s actually alive?”

“Shut up, Kahl.” I spat harshly, disregarding his attempt at taking Clyde Frog away from me. “You just don’t get it.”

“You’re right; I don’t. But I will if you explain it to me.”

“No you won’t! You’re just saying that to get me to talk. You think I’m crazy. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

Kyle tried putting a consoling smile on his face, the fakest I’ve ever fucking seen in my life, and I remembered what he was here for in the first place. Not to play councillor, but to play dead.

I handed him his glass of lemonade.

He swished it around in his glass, looking at me as if I were stupid.

“What, aren’t you going to drink it?”

“No.”

“Well why the fuck not, Jew?” I asked, offended.

“Cartman, the fact that you’ve got a spliced Cicuta plant in a vase is telling in itself. Combined with the fact that I only needed to mix a couple drops from this glass into yours to achieve a dangerous result is also a pretty big fucking sign.”

My face turned into a scowl, but Kyle remained unimpressed. “How did you–”

“I’m not an idiot, Cartman. There’s two things in life that I know for sure; it’s useful to know the most common one hundred causes of death and learn how to avoid them, and to not trust the person who’s been trying to kill me at every opportunity he’s gotten for the past sixteen years of my life.”

Silence sounded around the room for a minute or two, while Kyle placed the drink back, untouched.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked, and I admit, a little sheepishly.

“Kind of, yeah, but that’s my permanent state around you. Not surprised, though. No, what surprises me is _why_ exactly you want to kill me in the first place. Why you want to make my life a living hell. Why you feel the need to act so hostile towards me when I don’t know what I did wrong. You’re kind of an enigma to me, and even I can’t figure what the fuck is going on in that head of yours.”

I huffed. “So what you’re saying is that I’m kind of a psychological experiment for you to toy with until you get bored?”

Kyle gave a short chuckle. “With you around, things never get boring. And you’re so much more than an experiment. You’re a person. A pretty fucking shitty one, but still, a person nonetheless.”

I sat back, thinking for a moment. Contemplating. Whether I should tell him, show him, expose him to the ugly truth. Once I did, there would be no going back. Then, he’d have to die, for sure. There was no way I’d let him go out in the world knowing my secret.

Well, we only live once, and seeing as I was going to murder him with my bare hands straight after this anyway, I decided I might as well curb his curiosity as a form of final wish, if you will.

“Are you sure you want to know?” I asked, the tone in my voice dead straight, no joking business.

Kyle didn’t reply– he didn’t need to. Just the way his eyes widened and he gave a small nod of his head. That was all the consent I needed to proceed.

He held his breath in anticipation as I observed his features carefully. The same freckles that were always there seemed to glimmer at this very moment, the very same ones I detested so very much. Despite wearing my clothes, Kyle’s signature infuriating scent hung around me like some sort of intoxicating drapes that I couldn’t get out of. His hair was bright orange and wild, as it always was, always would be, even in death.

And those eyes. Oh, those fucking _eyes_.

I couldn’t stand Kyle anymore–

I kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! I don't know what to say for myself, so I'll leave it up to you.
> 
> What did you think? OOC? Not? Enjoyed it? Hated it?I love me a bit of slow burn- was this too quick in? Or not?
> 
> Please, do leave me a comment below, I tried so damn hard with this chapter and would appreciate feedback soo much. And certainly feel free to tell me where I went wrong, or any other criticisms you have!


	21. Disgusting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, apparently it's considered unprofessional to not put a trigger warning before a heavy chapter, so here it is, but I don't want to spoil the contents so I'll just say that there's graphic imagery ahead. Hopefully I didn't give away too much already. Enjoy.

There I was, the throb in my disfigured hand long forgotten– no, everything, in fact– that occupied my brain before, abandoned, because nothing mattered anymore.

I sat on the bed, transfixed in the moment, and so was he, my lips on his, and _oh fuck_ , I can’t even begin to describe it. No, there’s no words that could construe the moment in perfect accuracy. Not enough words in the English lexicon to recount the sensation of the pure fucking _softness_ of Kyle’s lips, and the tingling of my own as they pressed together, interlocking like two puzzle pieces, harmoniously, gracefully, and, dare I say it; _perfectly_.

Fuck, I know that describing a kiss as ‘heart-stopping’ is fucking overused and cliché, but if a doctor were to come in and measure my pulse, it’d be gone, too far gone, because I was, I really, really was. I seemed to have sprouted wings; dear fucking God, Kyle’s very scent was flooding my senses, and in some weird way, it was like my personal heaven. I couldn’t believe myself, and I couldn’t believe him, nor this moment, nor anything and everything that existed in my life right up until this kiss. It was so... ethereal; unreal even.

But alas, all good things must come to an end; yet I still wasn’t ready to let go. Not even a promise of a thousand kisses after would’ve spurred me to pull back. I was ready to pass out from lack of oxygen, and would’ve been glad to do so if only I didn’t have basic survival instincts.

Reluctantly, after giving into my protesting lungs, I sat up straight.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I took a long, hard look at Kyle.

It only took a second for my body to realise what I had just done.

And I was off, sprinting as fast as I could, to the bathroom, with only enough time to lock the door behind me before I fell to my knees like a sinner, crushed down to earth as a stream of vomit blasted out of my mouth.

The explosion of sick shook my whole body and I couldn’t breathe again; the one uneven inhale I managed to take was filled with bile, that made its way into my lungs, making me heave harder. I could feel it, the utter revulsion I held for myself, exposed to the world, to him, of all people.

The complete and utter lack of self control, the admission of weakness, that pathetic vulnerability of mine.. all so horribly, sickeningly....

_Disgusting._

So I puked for what felt like hours on end, expelling any traces of what was inside me. My lips turned shiny red and blistered from the constant onslaught of putrid acid coming out of my mouth, as I clutched my stomach desperately, praying that my internal organs wouldn’t get thrown up too.

Finally, I was able to stop, wipe the sweat off of my clammy forehead and lean back from the open toilet. I used a shit ton of toilet paper to spit the remains into, as well as blow my nose to make absolutely sure I dispersed of everything inside of my body. I don’t think I ever really appreciated the modernisation of toilets until I flushed, and the rancid smell disappeared along with my puke.

But the feeling stayed.

Wobbling, I rose upwards, leaning against the sink and splashing my face with cold water from the faucet. It took me a couple minutes to regain full stability, a couple more to even be able to look at my face in the mirror.

Needless to say, I was not a pretty sight to behold.

Apart from my cracked lips, my face was coloured with a sickly green tinge, save for my eyes, which were bloodshot and watery. Paired with the sight of my plastered hand, I could almost laugh at how shitty a state I was in. Looking at myself nearly made me puke again; I was so ugly. And I didn’t mean that in a way stupid bitches do when they’re fishing for compliments– I was seriously fucking disgusting. Both physically and mentally.

Just the thought of replaying the revolting act from minutes ago made me woozy again, and I had to clutch my stomach in hopes to not puke again. Gritting my teeth (as if that would prevent anything) I sat down on the toilet, face in my hands.

What the fuck did I do that for? I didn’t like Kyle– I never liked him in the first place. Au contraire, I detested him! With all of my heart.

Then... why?

I started pondering.

It was an accident! There, that made sense. I was going to lean into him and whisper the secret but I missed. And, being the closeted gay he was, Kyle didn’t push me back. No, he just kind of let it happen. He didn’t really kiss back, or even move much at all, but that was because I was trying to tell him the secret, you see, so my lips were the ones moving against his. That’s probably where he got all confused and got the wrong idea.

 I mean, I always knew I was hot, but to have even guys fawn over me like that was kind of disconcerting. Poor dude would be heartbroken when I told him I was only accepting of friendship. Still, he’d just have to accept the decision like a man; I was just _not_ homosexual.

Feeling slightly better, I went out of the bathroom to explain the situation to Kyle. And also to kill him, but I’d have to do that some other time. Priorities, ya know? Now, I had to make sure that Kyle understood I was _not_ okay with him just leaning over and smooching me like that.

I opened the door to my bedroom.

Which happened to be empty.

Okay. Maybe he went downstairs?

I stomped across the stairs until I was in the living room, but even without looking around, I could tell he wasn’t there.

Perhaps he wanted something to drink that wasn’t actually poisoned?

The kitchen was equally as deserted.

With panic setting in, I paced around the house, charging from room to room like some crazed madman, checking in places I knew, logically, he couldn’t be in, but I’d be damned if I found him hiding in the washing machine or in-between the couch cushions. Those were still viable options.

After having had searched each and every room at least three times over, and once more for good measure, I stood in the midst of the mess, panting.

He had left without so much as a warning.

Gone.

Without a trace.

I breathed heavily, unable to come to terms with that fact. Unless he magically disappeared into thin air, that was the only other thing that could’ve happened.

What a fucking faggot! The asshole came over to _my_ fucking house, didn’t accept _my_ gracious offering of a drink, kissed _me_ , and just left like it was nothing!

Like it was nothing...

I gulped. The disgust came washing over in waves. He must’ve found a way to slip out while I was puking my guts out. No, he didn’t kiss me; if he were even remotely attracted, or at least, even felt an ounce of actual care for me, he would’ve stayed. Came into the bathroom after me and helped. That departure of his was like a kick in the balls. A hard one too.

Well that settled it then. Kyle was a liar– a sneaky Jew liar!

Joke was on him though, I didn’t care!

I didn’t care.

See, that kiss was just for a joke. Stupid Jew, he never had a sense of humour about him. Couldn’t understand that our lips touching was just a prank. I only wanted to see how he’d react, nothing more than that. Ugh, he left before I’d had the chance to explain it to him– that it wasn’t what he thought it was.

An idea came to my head. I could just text him about it. Of course, making it not too conspicuous in case someone like Stan happened to read his messages. I could bet my life on the fact that the two of them were so close they knew all of each other’s passwords. Without even thinking about it for too long, I could easily imagine the two of them in Stan’s bedroom, and exactly how that debacle of sharing passwords played out.

“Dude, what’s my password for my e-mail account?” Stan would’ve asked.

“How am I supposed to know?” That infuriating voice would’ve piped out, a hint of annoyance on his face. Probably like, looking up from his book to address Stan. “It’s your password, dude. Don’t you have a piece of paper to write them all down on?”

“Dude, no. I know I’d lose it in the span of like, a couple seconds. And then what would I do? All my passwords would be out in the open.” Stan would’ve answered nonchalantly, as if that was something to be proud of.

“Well maybe if you cleaned your room once in a while you wouldn’t have this problem, dude. You’re such a hoarder.” At that moment, Kyle would’ve most likely chucked a dirty sock at him, because God knows that Stan’s got about twelve dozen of those strewn about everywhere.

No kidding, the guy was kind of a disaster when it came to cleanliness; last time I was there I had to pick out candy wrappers from between his bedsheets before I could even sit down so we could play on his GameSphere.

“Oh shut up, dude. You know I’m not as bad as I used to be.” Stan would’ve swivelled around on his desk chair and stuck his tongue out at Kyle, who would’ve returned the gesture. The two of them would’ve had their competition at who could’ve made the stupidest face before they burst into unanimous laughter.

That’s when Kyle would usually laugh the most– when he was with Stan. The pair of them were awful, always tittering about some inside joke like little bitches. I never knew about what Kenny thought, but personally, it pissed me off to no end. Sometimes the only thing they’d need was one look at each other and they’d both crack up laughing for some unknown reason. Confused, I’d look at both of them in turn, but never get an answer or explanation. I’d usually end up staring at Stan, wondering what the hell Kyle saw that was so damn funny when he looked at him. That made him grin so unbearably wide.

A sickening feeling bubbled up in my gut.

“Fine, you win!” Kyle would’ve conceded, smiling brightly.“If you can’t remember your own stupid passwords then just tell me; I’ll keep them safe for you.”

“I love you, dude.” Stan would’ve said, earnestly.

“I love you too.” Kyle would’ve replied, equally as honest in emotion.

My eye twitched. It was just an imaginary scenario, but still, there was something about even imagining him telling our friend he _loved_ him that was infuriating. Of course, Kyle could be gay all he wanted, but like Hell I’d have him convert Stan too.

Stan would’ve beamed, and passed a piece of paper to Kyle, containing all of his passwords.

Kyle wouldn’t have been able to contain his own smirk at Stan’s devious ploy.“For someone so forgetful, you seem to have a pretty intact list here.” He would’ve waved it for a moment before continuing. “Dude, if you wanted me to just keep your passwords for you, you should’ve just said.”

“Well, yeah. But I was worried that you’d think it’s weird. You know..” Stan would’ve trailed off, looking down like a kicked puppy and shrugging. “I didn’t want to think what would happen if you said no..”

This was where Kyle, being the emotional pissy bitch he is, would’ve gone up to him, abandoning his book in favour of wrapping his arms around Stan’s neck and hugging him tightly.

Another thing that pissed me off; they were so fucking touchy with eachother! And I’m seriously, even in when around people, the two of them would pull shit that even couples considered to be too affectionate for public display. If anyone other two guys did it, they’d get called gay pansies and be shunned, but no, the town had a soft spot for Stan and Kyle, who got to get away with that stuff. Life was a bitch, really. They were like South Park’s second (unannounced) gay couple.

Stan would’ve pulled him into his lap and rocked him back and forth, the both of them ignoring the obvious fucking undertones of what was happening, because of course _they_ would.

“Dude...” Kyle would’ve whispered into Stan’s ear, before pulling back to look at him fully, cradling Stan’s face in his hands as if it were his entire world. “You know I’d never say no to you.”

“Never?”

“Never, Stan. _Never_.”

And just like that, they’d be kissing, a warm, sweet kiss for them that burned in my brain like grease fire. It was just an imaginary scenario. Just my overactive imagination... nothing more... But that possibility existed, and, more importantly, was highly likely. More than that. I was certain, absolutely positive that the two of them had kissed before.

Not that I cared.

What hurt most was the fact that Kyle would’ve actually kissed him back.

If he were to break up with his girlfriend to go gay for anyone, it would’ve been Stan. Hell, he was probably already head over heels for him, and vice versa, just in secret.

Wiping my face, I went up to my bedroom and slumped down on my bed.

I felt disgusting.

I _didn’t_ like Kyle, and the feeling was obviously more than mutual.

With a click, I opened up my phone. There were obviously notifications from a bunch of people,  wishing their condolences about Heidi. In the midst of everything I’d almost forgotten she’d gone and kicked the bucket.

What interested me, though, was Kyle’s number. He actually didn’t give me it himself willingly– I kind of had to pry it out of him until he eventually caved in and stopped giving me fake ones.

That also made me feel sick to my stomach.

For many long minutes, I lay there, contemplating precisely what to text. I kept typing and deleting my sentences because none of them _felt_ like the appropriate thing to say.

I looked at Clyde Frog, who was laying on the floor, abandoned, in hope that he’d help me think of something to say.

“Clyde?”

No response.

“Clyyydddee.” I whined. “Help me out here.”

I was hoping for any sort of reply from him, or even a glare, _something_ to indicate he was responding to me. But there was silence. Begrudgingly, I leaned over and reached out, picking him up and turning him over to face me.

Clyde Frog’s eyes were glassy and hard plastic. I shook him, yet there was no reaction.

“Stop it, Clyde! You’re scaring me.” I said, voice inexplicably going an octave higher.

I looked at him in closer detail, scrutinizing his features. They were worn and matted, pieces of fabric patched together from when we were kids. Oh, I remembered.

I was told to grow up; so I killed Clyde Frog back then. Of course, that didn’t last long, his pieces would continue to talk to me despite everything, so I shoved all the fluff back in his mangled parts and sewed him up as best as I could.

No-one ever saw any of my stuffed animals since then.

I thought everything would be alright if things were going to be that way. If no-one knew about their existence, then there’d be no-one to make fun of me, so we could live together in harmony. But Kyle saw. He knew about Clyde Frog, effectively murdering my only friend left.

It was hard to describe, the feeling, the sudden epiphany, the realisation that things were never the way I thought they were. My entire world was pulled like a rug from beneath my feet.

I dropped Clyde Frog onto the floor.

There was nothing left to be said now.

I had no-one.

Not a single friend left in the world.

I’d fucked up many, many times, and with many people. They all hated me now; no friendly face to turn to.

Now it was just me, left alone with my thoughts. And I knew I was right in not liking them much.

I started laughing. How could’ve I been so stupid? Of course no-one gave two shits about me, I was Eric Cartman, the bastard child that deserved to get fucked over by the world. I was the kid that manipulated and twisted and warped and changed everything to suit their own agenda. I was the kid who held no remorse for their actions; who fucking _laughed_ when they witnessed death. The kid who made a kid eat their own parents over twenty dollars, licking off tears from their face and _enjoying_ it. I was the kid who drove countless people to suicide, including their very own girlfriend. No, even better, afterwards I made nearly the whole town believe that I actually changed into a better person.

I looked in the mirror, my reflection staring back.

It was disgusting– that thing in the mirror couldn’t have been me. Oh, but it was.

But the best thing was, that despite recognising my flaws and faults and despite the fact that I felt utter revulsion at the sight before me, I still had no desire to change.

Why should I?

So what if I did some stupid crap like that? It’s not like any of it _mattered_. Because it didn’t. We were all going to die anyway, so it didn’t necessarily affect anyone in the long run.

Nothing ever really mattered.

I sat on my bed, weighed down by all the troubles of the universe, fingering the creases of my journal, flipping from page to page and adding doodles where need be. Although I wanted nothing more than to cry, not a single drop spilled out. That in itself was probably worse. I couldn’t do anything apart from sit and stare blankly into space whilst feeling my heart shatter into shards.

I just couldn’t understand why my heart was acting like that, towards _him_ , when I never even experienced much. All I got was a taste, and already I was out of control. It was disgusting how much power he had over me– without even realizing it.

_All I know is that there’s no going back now. I’ll never be able to look at Kyle as an enemy again. How can you hate someone who you want to kiss all the time? Easy. You convince yourself you don’t. Because it’s easier to lie to yourself than admit the truth kills you on the inside._

_Aren’t I just so pathetically poetic?_

I closed my book shut with a slam, haven’t even had noticed the fact that I was writing in it before it was too late.

//

During my life, I always convinced myself of many things.

That I wanted to be left alone.

That I didn’t need anyone.

That I was fine just as I was.

But now, when I knew I was truly isolated, the truth dawned on me.

Those were all lies.

All fucking lies.

And that was the harsh reality of the situation.

Kenny was right all along; these things were staring me in the face since the very beginning but I was too stupid to realise. I pushed people away, and now, when I needed them most, no-one would come.

The sky outside was dark navy, stars twinkling in the moonlight. It was beautiful. Not only the night– the whole world was beautiful, and at that moment, I was sure, better off without the infamous Eric Theodore Cartman.

I was an anomaly.  

As I said before, and amongst my many other defects, I was the kid who laughed when they witnessed death. But would I act the same if I were the one on the chopping block? I mean, there was only one way to find out.

My penknife lay on my desk, the very one I used to extract the poison that lay in the glass of lemonade beside it.

To drink the lemonade or slash my wrists open with the knife, that was the question.

Well, one of my favourite mottos always was ‘all or nothing’, so, all it was.

I grabbed the glass and chugged down its’ contents in their entirety, the earthy taste inflaming my throat immediately. Fuck, it tasted like bleach smelled, if not worse.

Immediately, I felt the rush as my hands began to shake. Just for good measure, I glugged down the dregs, choking a bit on my own saliva. I hadn’t even thought about writing a note myself until this moment, but then again, why bother? I wasn’t Heidi; people weren’t obligated to feel sorrow for me when I died. No, they were the ones who were going to be laughing. After all, that’s all that everyone’s ever wanted.

Then, I reached for the knife.

For one glorious second, I thought I heard footsteps, rushing up to come and save me. A deus ex machina, to rescue me from my own self-destructive behaviour.

But of course, it was just my imagination. The house was empty.

I pressed the blade against my skin, just above the bandages. I wasn’t an emo, but the feeling of it there was in no way unusual or foreign to me. This time, though, I’d do something right for once in my life. Something for the benefit of others. Or maybe it was my own selfishness spurring me on– I was never a fan of pain, so I preferred to get it done quickly and effectively.

This time, instead of slashing across, I’d actually get the job done.

I let out a hiss as the blade pierced my skin, because fuck, it stung really fucking badly. But it was too late now; nothing left to do but get this over with and pull upwards.

There I was, the throb in my disfigured hand long forgotten– no, everything, in fact– that occupied my brain before, abandoned, because nothing mattered anymore.

Just another empty heart in an empty house it once dared to call home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you all SO much for all the lovely comments last chapter. I want to apologise to all those that I didn't get a chance to reply to, your efforts do not go unnoticed; I read all the comments, but unfortunately, often don't get the opportunity to log on more than once or twice a week, and not for long either- I am a person with an unfortunately busy schedule.
> 
> Anyways, I would love to know what you think of this one. I would appreciate it if you guys could tell me which parts felt weird, OOC, or just generally cringeworthy and out of place. I tried hard to do angst, but it always somehow ends up in an existential crisis for my characters; sorry if it was a pain in the ass to read. I'll learn how to write it well someday.
> 
> Also, I'm wondering whether to finish it here or not and would love your opinions on the matter. 
> 
> Either way, hope you enjoyed! Xx


	22. So what?

I heard cries from around wherever I was, but other than that, nothing. I was blank on the inside as well as out, and it was the most unusual sensation of my life. There were no feelings flitting around, nor any particular thoughts as I just lay and embraced the darkness around me. Even if I had tried, I wouldn’t have been able to move a muscle, but all in all, it was freeing more than anything. Was this what death felt like? Just stillness? I presumed so.

But no, the cries were still there, persistent as ever. Immediately, I recognized some of them as my mother’s and willed myself to move. But alas, my body was fully immobile and I could only listen to her pour her heart out at my side. There were other wails too, high pitched and scathing, like boiling water drenching some unfortunate soul, if that comparison even made any sense in the first place. For the life of me, I couldn’t put a face to those, as much as I wished I could’ve. Also, there were some sniffles coming from wherever else, but God knows where, since apart from being drowned out by all the other noise, were in themselves almost completely silent- just an occasional snivel-ly inhale.

They were too loud. All of them. In fact, everything was too loud. Was a little silence too much to ask for when trying to die? Clearly fucking not, since they just wouldn’t shut up. I felt like screaming at them, to just go away and leave me be. And I actually managed to open my mouth a little, letting out a grunt of distress. This was a wrong move to make, the cries turned silent for only half a moment before exploding into shouts and screams and laughter.

I heard some rustling and then the weirdest sensation of not feeling a single thing as what seemed like a dozen pairs of hands travelled over my body- my face, hands and chest being swarmed over with what felt like pins and needles.

With a heaving effort, I attempted to open my eyes, managing to see a slither of blinding whiteness before closing them again. It was just so damn exhausting. Existing seemed tiring in itself, and as my senses slowly came back to me, one by one, when I wanted only to sleep. I never said this often, but in that moment I felt like such a fucking failure; it seemed that I hadn’t even managed to kill myself properly.

But then again, I felt sleepy, so maybe that was a good sign. So sleepy... Maybe this was just a phase, after all, I’m pretty sure all of that crying and moaning and laughing was happening whilst I was in my coffin. Those assholes, getting their filthy hands on me just to make sure I was gone for sure.

Yeah, if I just closed my eyes again..Ah the listlessness was nice.. then I’d be able to just drift away and be gone forever, just like I’d wanted all along.

And it looked like it was beginning to work after all....

***

Well _shit_.

That’s basically all I was willing to admit about the err.. _situation_ that occurred earlier in the day. I left as quickly as I could to the sound of retching in the bathroom. No, I didn’t feel guilty about leaving Cartman alone with his troubles; I was far too busy gathering my belongings and getting the fuck out of there before he emerged and hell ensued. Moses knew how awkward the situation was going to get for me- not that it wasn’t already. Not after _that_ scandal.

I needed to think the whole thing through, then I’d feel better and be able to act rationally, for once. Hopefully, the scrambles left inside my brain would somehow fix themselves together with some meditation, quiet contemplation and other forms of calming down- most definitely prayer. As a Jew, I never thought I’d have said that I seriously fucking needed Jesus at that very moment, but then again, when _didn’t_ I need higher powers to restrain myself around fatass?

It was late afternoon, but it may as well have been the middle of the night; it was cold, dark and dreary as I briskly fucking ran all the way back home. It seemed like the weather did a full one hundred and eighty degree turn from this very morning, as if the world was just now registering and mourning Heidi’s death.

Sure, I was shaking as I entered the house, earning myself a stern glare from my mother, still in her mourning outfit, but managed to escape her before she could chastise me for being outside and not wearing any sort of protective clothing (in my hurry, I’d just grabbed my things without a second thought and dashed out the door) and had my own clothes in my hands too. I just dropped everything in the laundry basket and dashed upstairs as my mother’s expression changed to that of concern.

Pushing past Ike on the stairs, –whose reaction was less than positive, as one could expect– I sprinted to my room and locked the door behind me. After which, of course, deciding that this wasn’t enough of a barricade when someone like Cartman was involved, I shoved my dresser  in front of it and locked my window. Call me neurotic, but this was _Cartman_ we’re talking about. The amount of times he’s sneaked into my room in the past without me noticing until it was too late was too damn high for my liking.

I sat on my bed, head in my hands, truly going over what happened. And as much as I thought about _that moment_ , I just couldn’t comprehend it. It was like my mind had deliberately repressed it all despite it happening only minutes before.

For once, I was at a loss for words. Or thoughts, for that matter. Fragments of thought, splinters of words, and droplets of silence spun into a kaleidoscopic jumble, shifted infinitesimally, and fell into an incredible new pattern until I couldn’t handle it anymore.

I was shaking uncontrollably, helpless. Helpless and trapped.

This had to be one of his elaborate schemes– it better have had been. Some kind of sick joke of his, like he did to Butters back in fourth grade and the infamous pictures of their sleepovers. This couldn’t have happened– no, it didn’t make any sense! I wouldn’t allow for something like that! Perhaps it was just his way of reacting after Heidi? That seemed plausible, maybe?

No, it didn’t and no it wasn’t, and rationally, I _knew_ that, but it didn’t stop me from trying to justify each and every possibility under the sun.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Bubbe, what did I say about being mean to your little brother!” Mom complained from behind the door.

Ugh. Damn it, Ike!

“Sorry Mom, won’t happen again, promise.” I managed to get out with a voice as close to normal as I could. At this point, I was willing to say anything to make her go away.

“You better make good on that promise as well! I don’t want Ike to go back to school with bruises.”

“Okay, Mom. I won’t.” I wanted to be alone, to think everything through but she just wouldn’t let me be. One of the many downfalls of an overbearing mother, I supposed.

She coughed indignantly. “Kyle, haven’t you forgotten something?”

“What?” I snapped.

“ _KYLE!_ ” Mom bellowed. “Is that any way to speak to your mother, young man? You get your butt out here and apologise to Ike as well. You’ve forgotten all your manners.”

With a heavy sigh, I got up and after pushing the dresser to the side, opened the door a fraction of an inch.

“Sorry Ike.” I apologised sardonically.

He flipped me off discreetly so that Mom wouldn’t see. It made me grind my teeth.

Mom only huffed at my response but, thankfully, left us to our own devices. Before I could close the door and barricade myself once more, Ike put his foot in the doorframe. Clearly, after living in America for so long the polite Canadian washed off of him.

“Leave me alone, Ike.”

He wouldn’t budge; he stood resolutely with his arms folded.

I groaned loudly. “What do you want?”

“You should think about being a little nicer to me.” Ike stated, voice like ice– cold and unnaturally smooth.

He said nothing more as he went into my room, taking in his surroundings. In particular, a long look at my dresser. “Who are you hiding from?”

“No-one.” I scoffed, sitting back down on my bed. “And it’s rude to go into someone’s bedroom without their permission, don’t you think Ike?”

“It’s also rude to blow up an entire country because of the belief that your views are better than everyone else’s.” He replied easily, any trace of an edge in his voice indiscernible to me.

“Ike...” I warned him. “How many times do I have to say it was just that one time! Any decent person would’ve done the exact same thing in my position!”

“Cartman wouldn’t have.” Ike said, turning to face me.

Fuck, that cut deeper than it should’ve. Ike may or may not have realized that himself. Seeing the way his beady Canadian eyes narrowed meant he obviously showed no remorse. I averted my gaze.

“So it’s him you’re hiding from. I wonder why...” Ike muttered half to himself, half to me. I chose to take that as a rhetorical question. Ike did not.

“No –I’m not!” I fumed harshly. “I haven’t even seen him since he left the funeral!”

Ike shook his head. “Kyle, I know you like to pretend you’re smart and shit, but come on! You’re literally wearing his clothes right now. And it totally makes sense for you to have gone after Cartman afterwards to ‘comfort’ him– acting morally superior and righteous is, like, your personal heroin– don’t you deny it!”

I groaned, shoving my face in my hands.

“So, are you going to tell me anything?”

 “Go away, Ike.” I mumbled.

“Kyle, you’d better tell me! At least tell me why you’re wearing his clothes. Wait a second... did you two fu–”

“FUCK OFF, IKE!” My voice cracked by the end of my scream and another tremor shot through me like an arrow.

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Ike said coolly. “So am I to understand there was no fooling around happening?”

Without even realizing there were any, wiped away stray tear droplets on my cheeks. “No! Just leave me alone!”

“ _Kyle_!” Mom shouted from downstairs, only now reacting to my loud outburst. “Language! And Ike, you leave your big brother alone!”

I covered my face once more. Ike huffed. “Fine, don’t say anything then. I’ll find out myself.”

He left the room, and bounded down the stairs, after which I heard the front door slam shut and Mom yell out an agitated ‘Hey!’.

I lay down on my bed with a shaky sigh.

I still didn’t know what to think. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to just rip off the clothes on me and burn them down, but from previous experience, I knew that arson was not the best way to handle things. Moses, eleven year old me attempting to burn down the school because of some stupid list was still cringe-y as fuck. Still, at least I fulfilled the first part of my fantasy; tearing all of Cartman’s shit off me and throwing it into the darkest corner of my room. My body still felt itchy even after disposing of the clothes that seemed to fit so comfortably before.

I lay on my back, delicately tracing patterns on my bare stomach. Especially that one particular area where a long, thin scar rose from the edge of my hip up. It was old now and very much faded from what it once was, but it didn’t change the fact that it was still there; the redness stuck out against my skin like a traffic light. Still, thanks to that scar, I still had my life. And thanks to the donor of what was behind it.

That didn’t count though! He was _very_ willing to let me die back before the operation.

Not much changed after all, then.

Unless he actively wanted to kiss me back then too.

Curling up into a ball on my side, pressing my knees almost to my face in pure helplessness and uncertainty, I eventually must’ve fallen asleep. It was the only thing I could do that would actively prevent me from thinking about it. About _him_.

//

I woke up to the sound of my door creaking open and closing quietly behind the footsteps that came closer. I was worried for a moment – the only clothing on me was my underwear, after all.

“Dude?” Came my favourite voice in the world. I heard him take another step closer. “You asleep?”

I patted the bed, scooching over, still keeping myself facing the wall. It was alright for me to be nearly naked, it was only Stan that had come to see me.

There was silence until I was magically thrown up into the air as my bed squeaked loudly. I couldn’t help but yelp as Stan laughed his ass off.

“Stan!” I scolded, pretending to be angry. “You can’t just jump on my bed like that anymore, we’re not children! If you break it, you’re buying me a new one.”

“Gladly.” Stan replied, patting the mattress fondly, “You need a bigger bed. This one’s way too small; I hate having sleepovers when I’m literally cramped in next to you.”

“You’re saying that like you don’t deliberately come close and cuddle me in your sleep.” I grinned.

Stan grinned back. “Yeah, but that’s because I’m asleep. It doesn’t change the fact that all your hair gets up in my nostrils and either you wake up because I’ve accidentally pulled on it or I wake up because I can’t breathe.”

“You still love cuddling me though.” I quipped.

“Of course I do, dude. I’d gladly suffocate in that hair of yours.” He smiled that recognisably lopsided smile that manage to never change throughout the years.

We looked at eachother, communicating the exact same message that we did every time. I outstretched my arms and Stan pulled me onto his lap, nuzzling his nose into my hair as he held me tight against his chest. I felt safe like this, childhood nostalgia slowly making its’ warm, fuzzy effects work. It was always like this, and I was grateful for each and every time. As if by magic, when one of us knew the other was feeling down, we’d just do something like this, and afterwards, at least for me, it didn’t feel as if I was carrying all the burdens of the world on my shoulders.

We stayed like that for a while, silent. It was comforting, peaceful in a way where you could feel truly at home. Downstairs, the front door opened again, slamming once more, but it seemed that this time the person was going into the house.

“Dude?” Stan hummed, rearranging me on his lap so that I was sideways and could actually face him. “If I blew boogers into your hair would they get lost forever?”

“Depends.” I smirked. “You’d spend forever searching for them before I forgave you, that’s for sure.”

I wiggled around, making myself more comfortable.

“Dude, I swear, if you keep this up, I won’t be able to handle it anymore. I’ve already allocated three days a week for leg day.”

“And what has that to do with anything?” I asked, curious.

“Every time we do this, your ass seems to be bigger, no matter how much I try to get my thighs to become large enough. You’ll start falling off my lap if you don’t watch out.”

“I do not have a big ass!” I protested loudly.

“You totally do, dude.” Stan remarked.

“I don’t!” I disputed.

Stan grabbed my one of my cheeks through my underwear. “You don’t? Then what’s this?”

“Dude! Stop!” I pretended to swat his hand away. “Fine, maybe I do! But it’s not my fault all my adipocytes distribute around here. So what?”

“I’m not even going to pretend that I know what those acid-o-tip-yte thingies of yours are. All I’m saying is it must be embarrassing to have a larger ass than your own girlfriend.”

“Says you!” I replied, acting offended. “Have you seen how flat Wendy is, front and back? Your elbow is bigger than both her tits.”

“Dude!” Stan chortled. “That’s harsh!”

“But true.” I answered, laughing along with him. He half-heartedly pushed me off his lap as we rolled around the bed laughing.

“At least Wendy puts out for me when she’s in a good enough mood.” Stan tried saving face. “Unlike Nichole, if I remember correctly.”

“You’re wrong, actually.” I said, and Stan’s face lit up in excitement and anticipation.

“Did you–”

“I did.” I answered back nonchalantly.

“You go, dude! If we ask Kenny nicely enough when he’s at one of our houses, he might even make you a congratulations cake!” Stan exclaimed cheerily. “Butters has been teaching him how to make all sorts of confections and he really took those to heart.”

My smile kind of faded a little at the thought of Kenny.

“Totally.” I agreed.

“You okay, dude?” Stan asked, immediately noticing something was off.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Stan.”

Stan looked at me in silence for only half a second before I cracked.

“It’s just that me and him a disagreement this morning and he still might be kind of mad at me. Nothing major, just a small argument.”

“We’ll talk to him when we see him in school. I’m sure he’ll forgive you by then. Kenny’s not one to hold grudges.” Stan remarked, giving me a reassuring smile, and only continuing once I reciprocated. “Now, tell me all the details.”

“You want to know _all_ the details?” I teased light-heartedly.

“You’re my best friend, dude. You could tell me you’re totally impotent and I wouldn’t think any less of you for it.”

“Thanks a bunch dude, but trust me, I’m not.” I assured him.

“That’s good to hear. So, how was it?” Stan asked eagerly.

“Fine, I guess.”

Stan tutted. “I don’t think that answer qualifies as _detailed_ , Kyle. I told you everything when it came to Wendy and I.”

“I never asked to hear about you and Wendy.” I reminded him. “And Moses knows I couldn’t get that horrendous image out of my mind for weeks after.”

Stan chuckled.“But did you at least use the tips I gave you from that experience?”

“Some of them, yes.” I admitted a little sheepishly. “She liked the hip thrust thing you showed me. I can’t really remember anything too vividly, it happened a little while ago, actually. Everything went well enough; we finished around the same time, so that was good. The whole experience was good.”

“Good?” Stan asked incredulously. “She must’ve been seriously mediocre if the best adjective you ascribe her is just ‘good’ when you have a whole bunch of fancy words up in that head of yours.”

“Well there’s not much to say, Stan, I don’t know what you were expecting. I asked for her consent, we went through the bases, fucked, came and slept. I would’ve said it was better than porn if only I didn’t have so much to clean up afterwards.”

“I’m starting to think that maybe you _are_ impotent, dude. How can you say something like that? Sex is so much better than just jacking off; I nearly cum when Wendy just _looks_ at me in a suggestive way.”

“Well how often does she do that?” I asked.

Stan huffed disappointedly, “Not often enough, dude.” I patted him on the back in consolation. “But Nichole’s the curviest girl in town. Didn’t you at least enjoy that?” He cupped the air in front of his chest as he enquired.

“You’ve been hanging around Kenny too much. He’s been rubbing off on you.” I said, a little bored with his insistence. “Her tits were absolutely fine.”

“Yeah, you’re more of an ass guy yourself, aren’t you?” Stan grinned wickedly as I slapped his shoulder.

“Quit the ass references!” I tried to growl, but ended up laughing along with him.

“She seems well endowed in that area too, isn’t she? A little too large, if you ask me. Any bigger and you’d be fucking Cartman.”

Instantly, my cheery face dropped to a glowering scowl. I frowned at Stan. “Dude, don’t.”

Stan stared at me quizzically. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

I opened my mouth to reply when the door to my bedroom opened. If I thought the face I gave Stan was bad, then this was a hundred times worse. Ike, ghostly white, glaring absolute daggers at me, as if I was some dirty chewing gum beneath his shoe.

I turned to Stan. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” And Stan nodded in understanding.

Ike went to the corner, and picked up Cartman’s clothes before looking at me and Stan once more.

“Talk about what?” Ike demanded, scoffing when he stared at me. “The fact that you’re sitting here practically naked with your boy-toy discussing tits and ass or the fact that Cartman just took his own life?”

So what if I wanted to be comfy-- wait....He did  ** _WHAT_** ** _?_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I know. This update took waaayy too long, but hear me out. First of all, I apologise, but I had two reasons for it- I had a shit ton of exams that took up my time and I genuinely couldn't think of what to write next. It was either writer's block or the fact that I was deliberating whether or not to permanently kill Cartman off. But then that begged the question of how I would continue without him, so you know. Now (hopefully) I'm back on track. I thank you all for your patience and continuous support, this is not the end just yet! 
> 
> Also, fuck me, I ain't ever writing Kyle's perspective again- that shit was difficult! If anyone has any ideas on how to make his interactions with Stan less OOC, or even Kyle himself, please do let me know! It was a damn nightmare, but oh well. At least I updated.
> 
> Anyways, would love you people's feedback and opinions, as always. Love ya! :D


	23. Same damn life

No fucking way... _NO FUCKING WAY DID HE DO **THAT.**_

“Shocked?” Ike seethed with a snarl. “Yeah, I thought you might be.”

Stan beside me was in the same state of stupor as I was. No doubt if his face was that pale then mine must’ve been too. It was like all the blood drained out from my body until something clicked in my brain like a switch. Immediately, I felt better after the sudden epiphany. It all made so much sense now!

That fat asshole...

I raised my eyebrow. “Seriously, Ike?”

He looked befuddled.

I knew it.

Triumphantly, I let out a relieving chuckle. “Sure, Cartman went ahead and killed himself because of what exactly?”

Of course only _he_ would stoop so low as to go and send for my brother to try and get me to talk to him. What a dickbag- he actually had me worried for a second! Luckily, that second of genuine concern was very short lived. It also made me try and repress since when that moment of personal anxiety for him started.

“Are you kidding me, Kyle?” stormed Ike, and if I ever thought he could hate me even more then this was the moment. “Are you actually seriously fucking shitting me right now?”

“No, I’m dead serious. I don’t believe for a second that the fat asshole went ahead and committed suicide.”

I turned around to face Stan, who apparently believed Ike; he was white as a sheet and clutching his stomach as if about to throw up.

“Dude, think about it for a second. This is _Cartman_! Obviously, this is just a stupid prank, can’t you see? As soon as we get to where he wants us he’s probably going to jump out of a bush or something and chant that stupid ‘nyah nyah nyah’ of his.” I told him.

‘Or worse..’ I thought to myself, shuddering slightly.

Stan still looked unconvinced.

“How much did Cartman pay you to do this?” I asked Ike. To be honest, I was pleased with myself at finding out the truth so quickly and not falling for their trap. I’m sure Ike also would’ve enjoyed my pissed off face when I found out that nothing really happened to fatass.

Ike stayed silent, shaking his head dejectedly, almost as if he didn’t believe me.

“Well? Anything else you’ve got to say, Ike? Or can I get back to talking about tits and ass without you listening in on our conversation?” I spat.

“Actually dude, I’m gonna go check it out.” Stan admitted quietly.

“Really?” I cocked my head to the side. “After everything that points to the contrary?”

“Dude, I don’t think Ike would joke about this type of stuff.”

“Thank you, Stan! At least one of you has some brain cells.” Ike said. “Come on, we’ve got to get to Hell’s Pass.”

Stan visibly cringed at the thought of being in a hospital, but Ike was already dragging him out the door. However, before Ike closed it, he took one good look at me and opened his mouth. There was no malice in his words, not even disappointment- he said it like he was just reading off a fact off of a piece of paper- emotionless.

“You’re going to regret this, you know.” He said.

Yeah, right.

***

The whiteness was extreme, blinding even. It caused me to squeeze my eyes shut so hard that tear droplets formed in my ducts. I wanted to rub it out,  but I couldn’t move my arm more than about an inch upwards. It was heavy, however, unlike last time, it was the only thing that was. No, the rest of me was fine- apart from some sort of splitting ache between my brows. But other than that, I was fine.

God fucking damn it.

I tried to open my eyes again, staring up at the white ceiling of wherever I was. Heaven, maybe? I heard the voices of some people talking; I recognised them, I _knew_ I did, but for the life of me I could not pinpoint who it was.

“Dude, you were right!” one voice proclaimed worriedly at the foot of the bed.

“I hate to sound like my brother here, but I told you so.” Another responded, higher, almost child-like.

A third voice piped up cheerfully. “Oh boy, you’re finally here! Hey, wait one moment, where’s K-”

“Never mind him, Butters.” The childish voice interrupted suddenly, taking on an unexpected deep drop in pitch. “He decided he didn’t want to visit.”

“Aw gee, well why’s that?” the supposed ‘Butters’ chirped. ‘Butters’, what a faggy name. His voice made my ears grate and I hadn’t even heard him speak more than a couple moments.

“He just didn’t want to see him, alright?” the childlike voice replied. “No specific reason.”

“Don’t lie to Butters, dude.” One of the other voices said.

I heard the small voice grunt. “Fine. You want to know the reason why? It’s because my brother doesn’t believe that all of this is true. He’s much rather live in his own fantasy bubble than to see the reality for himself. God forbid he’s not everyone’s perfect angel because then his whole existence breaks down and then this happens!” Something akin to a fist was slammed into the wall, at least from what my ears could detect.

“Oh hamburgers, Ike! That’s hospital property! Don’t hit so hard, please.” Butters begged. “Gee, I don’t understand why you’re all angry for. Now that we’re all here you can ask Stan to tell him through text. He’s sure to believe it if Stan tells him!”

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Ike.” What I deduced was ‘Stan’ answered.

“No!” Came his protest immediately. “If my brother likes to preach about the things he’s learned I may as well teach him a lesson. Then he’ll actually have something to complain about.”

“Dude, are you still on about that Canada thing? To be fair, it did happen two years ago and he didn’t mean-”

Silence.  It dragged on for a long while, just an occasional squeak of shoes.

“-But this is your feud and I’m not taking sides.” Stan concluded with a defeated sigh.

More silence, this time contemplative.

“I’m going to go and speak with the doctor.” Ike said.

The sound of a door opening;

“Butters, stay here and keep an eye out for him.”

“Sure thing, fellas.”

Then closing as the sound of two pairs of footsteps faded away.

I tried lifting my head up. It ended up failing as it dropped back down onto the softness of what I assumed was a pillow. But, never one to back down from a challenge, I tried again. This time, a pair of hands was supporting my neck as I managed to crane upwards.

I opened my eyes.

To my left was a boy with blond hair and bright blue eyes, arm extended behind me. His voice matched the same voice from before- the one they referred to as ‘Butters’.

“Here, let’s get you up, buddy.” He trilled excitedly, pulling me up fully into a sitting position. “How are you feeling, Eric?”

“Where am I?” I bleated. What the fuck was an ‘Eric’ and where was it? I looked around where I was, perplexed by my surroundings. The walls were white, the floor squeaky linen, the bedside table filled with a sickening array of flowers and an IV bag dripping some substance into me.

“Now, don’t be silly, Eric!” Butters scolded lightly. “You’re in hospital! You poor fella, do you want some water?”

He handed me a glass of clear fizzy liquid.

I was wary, swaying it around, creating a whirlpool before bringing it up to my nose and sniffing it. Suddenly, out of its’ own accord, my arm flung forward and the glass shattered into pieces against the door.

My body began shaking.

“Eric!” Butters cried, hands on his mouth in horror. “What did you do? Oh geez, we’re going to have to call in one of the nurses and explain the situation and then you need to apologise or you’ll get in trouble and–”

“Shut the fuck up!” I snapped. “Don’t do anything! Just... Shut the fuck up and let me think.”

Butters stood at the side, looking as if he was aching to clean up the mess on the other side of the room. But he stayed silent, twiddling his thumbs and watching me, wide-eyed.

“Okay, let’s start of simple.” I commanded. “Who are you?”

“Oh Eric–”

“So you’re Eric?” I interrupted.

“No, no! I’m Butters. You’re acting awful strange though Eric, you know my name already.” Butters replied earnestly. Well, I figured that much out already.

“I’m pretty fucking sure I didn’t right up until now.” I insisted. The guy was a loony, which prompted my next question. “And who the fuck is Eric?”

“Why, that’s you!”

“No.”

“What do you mean, buddy? Your name is Eric!” Butters reiterated, astounded.

I raised my eyebrow. My name was Eric? Well, I couldn’t remember any other name that I was given, but did that mean I had to trust the first person to tell me that?

“So what am I doing here?” I asked, gesturing to the tubes exiting and entering my veins.

“Well gee, I don’t actually know, but I’m sure one of the doctors will tell you.” Butters went round to the side of the bed and pressed a red button. A couple moments later the door swung open and a dark-skinned nurse with curly black hair rushed in.

She took one look at me, as I did to her.

She scowled furiously.

I did too.

I mean, who the fuck was she to give me attitude without even speaking to me? Fucking people these days.

“Watch out, there’s glass!” Butters warned as the nurse nodded gratefully at him.

She took out a dustpan and brush from the cupboard as Butters started babbling about it being an accident and to forgive me, etc, etc. Oh my fucking god, he was such a damn pussy.

The nurse smiled at him, “Don’t worry sweetheart, it’s not your fault. I know that this one,” She paused to glare at me, “has a history of temper tantrums. What was it last time? Your mother’s mirror?”

“Last time?” I repeated, confused. “What the hell do you mean, last time? You people aren’t making any damn sense!”

The door opened as a small preteen, a broad jock looking guy and a man in a medical outfit came into the room.

“Hello, Eric.” The doctor man said.

“What the actual... Who are you people and why the fuck do you keep calling me Eric?” I seethed, furious.

The jock and small child looked shocked as the doctor raised his eyebrow and stepped to the foot of my bed, taking a clipboard off of it. He adjusted his glasses on his wizened nose and flipped through the charts.

“Well well well, we have quite an interesting case here. A&E have you listed as a suicide attempt through stomach poisoning and exsanguinations too. You seem to have been really intent on killing yourself, young man.” He flipped through some more. “Cicuca plant poisoning... but no brain injury....”

The doctor clipped the board back onto the bed. “Tell me, what is your name?”

“He told me it was Eric.” I replied, pointing accusingly at Butters. “...Is it?”

“That’s the name written on your birth certificate, yes.” The doctor affirmed. “What about these people here?” He gestured to the nurse, boy, and dark-haired jock. “Any idea who these people are? Or me?”

Intently, I peered at everyone in the room. All of them looked familiar, and I knew from their earlier conversation either the two dark-haired guys standing and gaping at me had to be Stan and Ike, but who was who? I did not know. It was like their names were stuck on the very tip of my tongue but I just couldn’t find the words to spit it out.

Dejectedly, I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. “No fucking clue who you assholes are. Not a fucking clue.”

“Okay everyone, let’s introduce ourselves to Eric.” The man spoke calmly. “My name is Doctor Marlen. I’m your doctor and therapist, although you did stop coming to visit me a while before your attempt.”

He gestured to the nurse.

“I’m nurse practitioner Yurai Cist, Eric. I don’t know whether  you remember our little incident from last time.

I opened my mouth to speak–

“If not, then don’t worry about it. It’s not important now.” She smiled victoriously, nodding over to Butters.

“Oh, it’s my go?” Butters bit his lower lip. “Well, I’m not quite sure what to say, fella. It’s kind of strange to think that you actually don’t remember me! Anywhoo, my name is Leopold Butters Stotch, but you always used to call me Butters. Or faggot.”

I snorted. That seemed about right.

“Well I’m Stan Marsh.” The jock stepped forward. “We used to be friends, kind of. Well, we still are, right?” He looked uncertainly at the doctor before turning back to face me. “You go to school with me. Yeah. We talk sometimes at lunch. And, uh, your girlfrie–”

The little boy interrupted straight after. He seemed to look the greenest out of all of them, and I had an eerie feeling that this wasn’t the way his complexion was supposed to look. Weren’t little kids supposed to be rosy cheeked? This one wasn’t, in fact, he looked horribly sick, but he said his words confidently and without pause. “Don’t mind Stan. My name’s Ike and I’m your favourite out of all of these people.”

“You are?”

“Look at me. How could I not be?” Ike boasted, rushing over to get up on the bed. He widened his arms as far as they would go to encapsulate me in a hug. “I’m glad you’re mostly okay.” He whispered to me.

I patted his back in response.

The doctor began scribbling down notes.

“Hey Doc, whatcha doing?” Butters chirped.

“I’m trying to figure something out. Our Eric over here seems to be an anomaly, you see. The brain scans from earlier confirmed no sort of injury to the head, and the amnesia he’s experiencing seems much more severe than what would be expected of a patient under his circumstances. This is all very strange indeed.” Dr Marlen answered. “Nurse, how about you go get Eric some dinner?”

Obediently, she left.

“Now, there are only two possible reasons why Eric can’t remember. It’s either that he has transient global amnesia, which is highly unlikely, given that he couldn’t recall our names even after us talking to him. No, what I presume he has...” He trailed off at the end, leaving all of us uncertain.

What the fuck did I have?

“Well?” I ordered impatiently. If he insisted that I had amnesia of some sort, then he damn well should’ve told me what I had.

“Dissociative amnesia.”

I blinked. “And what the hell does that mean?”

“That means that this loss of memory was brought on by a traumatic event. More specifically, emotional trauma.”

Stan, Ike and Butters all looked at eachother furtively.

What did they know that I didn’t?

“Worst thing is,” Dr Marlen continued, looking at them quizzically for a moment, “That it may take years of therapy before you can even begin to fill in the gaps, Eric.”

The doctor’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down nervously. “Stan, may I have a word with you please? In private. Ike, you too.”

He hopped off my lap and joined the doctor. The door swung shut behind them.

I held my head in my hands. As an attempt to comfort me, Butters slid his arm around my back. That gesture seemed oddly familiar, but that may have been my imagination.

“There there, Eric. I know it’s a lot to process, but look on the bright side! At least you won’t have to worry about finals at school! I’m sure the teachers will give you a pass.” He consoled.

As if I cared about passing at skewl when I literally had a life before this that I couldn’t remember. Well, it still was my life. Same damn life. Just that I couldn’t remember a single thing.

I groaned.

“I know!” Butters exclaimed. “How about I call your Mom? She’ll be mighty pleased you’re all okay.”

I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally. The arm retracted and Butters paced around the room as he talked on the phone.

All of this seemed so strange to me. I tried squeezing my eyes shut and at least attempting to remind myself, but how can someone remember something that wasn’t there in the first place? No, there was nothing in my mind apart from the fact that I knew I wanted to forget _something_. Or maybe it was a someone? I couldn’t tell.

//

“Mrs Cartman! You’re finally here!” Butters cheerily greeted as the woman stepped into the room.

She flew to my side, placing her warm, dainty hands on either of my cheeks as her bright red lips kissed my forehead.

I stared at her.

“Oh Poopsikins, how are you?” she proclaimed, stroking her thumb over my cheek.

Was this my mother? She may just as well have been a hired prostitute from down the street and I couldn’t have told the difference. Her hair was brown and neatly pinned back, strands escaping onto her face, caked with make-up, where nevertheless, small wrinkles and smile lines persisted. Her eyes were watery and expression sincere, but to me, she was a stranger.

“I don’t know who you are.”

The water from her hazelnut eyes overflowed slightly. “I’m your Mom, Sweetums. Your own mother; I gave birth to you, I nursed you, I helped you grow up into a lovely young man, I–”

“I still don’t know who you are.” I finished for her.

She sniffled loudly. “Oh, Eric! Say it ain’t so! You don’t recognise me? Liane Cartman, your very own mommy?”

I shook my head.

Her face scrunched up painfully as more tears escaped. “Poopsie, I’m your Mom. You have to remember me, please, Eric, just try! The doctor down the hall said some very untrue things! You can’t forget your own mommy, Eric. I know you can’t!”

But she remained just a stranger to me.

A stranger wearing whore clothes and a large brown overcoat. More tears and more pleas. I didn’t know how to help her, I could’ve lied, but what was the point? There was nothing that I could do apart from sit there and let her sob into my shoulder.

“My baby...” She cried, gripping at me tightly, “My own child doesn’t know who I am!”

“Mrs Cartman, would you like me to get some tea?” Butters asked awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. He actually stayed with me for the longest time. When I asked him about whether he wanted to go home as Ike and Stan did, he responded vaguely about being more appreciated here. Yeah, looking at this heart-wrenching experience for the person that was my mother must’ve been weird to watch as an outsider. Liane was too busy weeping to notice his presence.

He left the room to return with some tea in a plastic cup. She smiled weakly at his attempt at pacification and wiped her face.

“Th-thank you, Sweetie.” Liane faltered. “Do you know when he’ll be able to go back home? I’m sure he’ll recognise something from home, at least.”

“Dr Marlen said Eric’ll be able to go tomorrow morning after some more checkups. He also said it’ll be good for him to go back to school on Monday, too.” Butters solemnly said. “Maybe something from school will trigger his memory.”

“Maybe.” Liane confirmed hopefully.

Nurse Yurai Cist returned shortly after, interrupting our little gathering. “Come on now, it’s getting too late for visitors. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

Liane- or should I say Mom- kissed me on the forehead and followed the nurse out of the room. Butters waved happily and skipped out after them. From the distance I heard Liane offering him a ride back home, but after the door slammed shut, I could hear nothing but my own thoughts.

I couldn’t help but let my mind wander as I thought to myself-

What the hell was it that I so desperately craved to forget?

But then again;

Out of sight, out of mind... right?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello wonderful people! This is going to get more interesting, I swear it will. It's just that beginnings are always a bit slow and boring but if you bear with me, you won't be disappointed.
> 
> Feel free to comment any negative stuff, or ask any questions. I'm more than happy to answer! And please do, it makes my day to see feedback on my work!


End file.
